


Out of My Head

by DyraDoodles



Series: Venom 616 [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Venom (Comics)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don’t copy to another site, Eventual Happy Ending, I Don't Even Know, It/Its Pronouns for the symbiote, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of whatever the hell nonsense created Dylan wtf Cates, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, The Slowest of Slow Burns Because They Hate Each Other Right Now, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of physical/emotional abuse, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 75,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyraDoodles/pseuds/DyraDoodles
Summary: Major canon divergence in that the Cates run is a drug-induced fever dream, and Eddie and the symbiote have to deal with some resulting psychological consequences. Bonus, Flash Thompson didn’t die, and is the symbiote’s go-to when it becomes apparent that it is wildly unqualified for healing its host’s emotional trauma.





	1. Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t start another fic, I said. You have too many projects already, I said.
> 
> Anyway here’s a new ludicrously self-indulgent fic, because I firmly believe that Flash shouldn’t have died and that Cates shouldn’t have taken up writing in general. I stopped reading the current run fairly early on, but I keep seeing enough random snippets of updates to know it’s...definitely not my thing, to put it politely. 
> 
> Eddie will be a little mean/off at first since he’s confused af, but don’t worry, he’ll go back to calling the symbiote ‘love’ real quick. His head’s just a mess, as always. There will also be more explanation of what the hell happened to Eddie/the symbiote in the next chapter. I don't know when that will go up. I don't know when any of this will get written. I have made poor decisions in life.
> 
> The end goal is to make this a Flash/Symbiote/Eddie OT3 fic but HOW WILL WE GET THERE??? WHO KNOWS!!! I SURE DON’T!!! Hopefully my literary flailing is at least somewhat entertaining in the meantime!

Flash Thompson had a problem. A conundrum, really, of the worst kind. He was better at thinking on the fly. Quick plays. Improvisation. Not the stuff that had him mulling over possibilities for hours and hours. _Definitely_ not the stuff that had him debating, going back and forth between potential resolutions, unable to simply get it over with and get the offending issue out of his head.

This process was especially aggravating when the offending issue involved a certain _Eddie Brock_.

And that’s where the spiraling came in. What in the world could he do about Eddie Brock being inside his apartment?

Flash lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, every fiber of his being hyper-aware that his old foe was only one room away. All that stood between them was the door separating his bedroom from the living room. The door was locked, of course, but Flash knew that was hardly an actual deterrent should Eddie wake up and decide that the _best_ way to repay Flash’s hospitality was by murdering him. And with no more Anti-Venom left to protect himself...

Well, okay, that scenario was assuming a few things:

First, it assumed Eddie would resume consciousness before Flash did. Which, he wouldn’t, seeing as Flash was too wired and anxious to shut his eyes.

Second, it assumed that Eddie still wanted to kill Flash, even though _Eddie_ was the one with the symbiote now. He couldn’t claim he still needed to keep an eye on Flash, or accuse the younger man of stealing it.

Third, it assumed the symbiote would let Eddie hurt Flash.

That last one seemed pretty unlikely, at least.

Flash sighed, sitting up and then rubbing his tired eyes. A part of him regretted opening the door. Maybe if he’d ignored the knocking, ignored the familiar twinge in his head he felt whenever the symbiote was close by—

He still had time before Eddie woke up. He could kick them out. Refuse to help.

Flash grimaced.

No, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t leave his friend in the lurch. Not when it had carried Eddie all the way here, its host unhelpfully unconscious, just to ask for Flash’s assistance. Though, why it had thought Flash was any more qualified to address the issues the pair was facing, he wasn’t sure.

_“_ ** _Drugs, weird tests, messed with his perception—_** _” the symbiote explained, its tone rapid and scared as it whorled around Eddie’s body, steering them inside by forcing movement into its hosts legs. “_ ** _Trapped in nightmares, don’t know how to fix him—_** ”

_Wide, white eyes, with a quavering keen of a voice at odds with the deep growls Flash was used to. Tendrils, black as pitch, clinging to its host, like he’d fall to pieces if it didn’t._

_“_ **_Don’t know how to help him! Need you to—Please, Flash!_ ** _”_

The veteran kept his head buried in his hands. No, he couldn’t refuse the symbiote. Not after everything they’d been through together.

Even if it _was_ Eddie Brock hosting it now.

Flash could let them stay for a bit, long enough for Eddie to wake up. Kick them out right after, assuming the older man was healthy after a night’s rest.

...But what if he wasn’t?

Flash couldn’t just _keep_ him here. He wasn’t the man’s caretaker—the symbiote was. For some reason. It had gone back to Eddie, even after all the shit with Toxin. All the pain, unspoken, unsaid, no matter how close Flash had grown to it. Trauma and agony and hate and betrayal.

All of that, and it still went back to _Eddie._

Maybe Flash could limit himself to helping the symbiote. Help it see that it didn’t need its old host. Get it to see that Eddie was...wrong. Bad for it. It should be here, with Flash. With someone who cared about it.

_Why did it go back to Eddie?_

Flash stared through the darkness, at the palms of his hands. They held no answers.

_Why didn’t it come back to me?_

Would it even _want_ to come back to him?

He heard a thud, from the living room. A string of fast, angry curses followed, and then, the stressed, worried keening of the symbiote.

Eddie was awake.

“Damn it all,” Flash breathed, shuffling over his bed covers to get to his wheelchair. Sliding into it, he made his way to the bedroom door, a grumble leaving his lips. “Might as well get this shit over with.”

At least he wouldn’t have much longer to ponder over possibilities of how to handle the situation. Eddie would probably make that decision for him.

Flash opened the door slowly, bracing himself. For what, he wasn’t sure. A fight, maybe. A shouting match, at the very least.

But the sight of Eddie gave him pause.

More specifically, the sight of Eddie edging away from the symbiote’s form, cornered against the armrest of the couch. Blue eyes flicked around the living room, wide and confused, searching for an escape route, though there wasn’t a threat to be seen.

“Brock?”

Eddie jolted, apparently having not heard Flash come out of his bedroom. His head snapped in the veteran’s direction, but instead of the furious glare Flash expected, the expression on Eddie’s face was more akin to shock.

Flash stared back at him, perplexed. Eddie had already been in bad shape when the symbiote had brought him here a few hours ago. Scratchy stubble on his normally clean-shaven face. Bordering on underweight. Too pale. He was paler, now, gawking at Flash like he was face-to-face with the spectre of death itself. The veteran inclined his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “...You alright there, man?”

Eddie did not appear comforted by the fact that Flash was talking to him. In fact, it seemed to make him shrink even more against the back of the couch. Some subconscious instinct to hide, despite the man’s large frame.

It would almost look funny, if it wasn’t so... _off._

Eddie opened his mouth slowly, his voice hesitant. Soft. Softer than Flash had ever heard it before. “...Thompson?”

“Yes?” Flash confirmed, confused by the other man’s behavior. This was not the man he’d fought before. Not the one forcibly bonded to Toxin. Not the man who swore to kill him the second he lost control as Agent Venom. That Eddie Brock was confident. Angry. Bitter. A wrathful fury, always ready to rip Flash to shreds.

But now, he just seemed _scared._

As Eddie’s expression grew more incredulous, Flash crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the weird look for?”

“You’re dead,” Eddie stated suddenly.

Okay, definitely not the response Flash had been expecting.

Flash couldn’t help but laugh as he asked, “I’m _what?_ ”

“Dead,” Eddie repeated, gaze utterly transfixed on the other man, like he was trying to scrutinize every detail of his person. “You’re dead. I saw your grave.”

“ **Wasn’t** **_real_** **, Eddie,** ” the symbiote urged, its snakelike form branching off its other’s arm. “ **Told you. Told you they were lies, from the drugs—** ”

“From the drugs, or from _you?!_ ” Eddie snapped, turning to his other with a snarl.

“Woah— _Hey!_ ” Flash raised his voice before Eddie could add anything else. “Don’t talk to it like that!”

“Why should I listen to you?” Eddie rounded on Flash again. “You’re probably just some damn hallucination that it cooked up to—to…” he trailed off with a wince, a hand grasping the side of his head as he groaned.

“Hallucination?” Flash questioned, looking in askance to the symbiote.

Its form drooped, sadly. It didn’t provide an answer. Or, it couldn’t.

So, in all likelihood, this was more complicated than the bad drug trip it had made this situation out to be.

Flash sighed through his nose. Great. He sucked at complicated. He rolled over to the side of the couch, to where Eddie had curled himself against the cushions. Eddie’s other hand had joined in trying to hold his head together, and now that Flash could get a closer look, he could see the older man was shaking. His breathing was too quick. His eyes were still open, but dazed. Unfocused.

The veteran directed his own gaze to the symbiote’s sad form once more, before gritting his teeth and steeling his nerve. He’d promised to help, after all. It might not do any good, but he still had to _try._ Flash leaned forward, trying to catch the attention of the panicking man. “Brock.”

If anything, Eddie curled himself even tighter.

Damn it.

“...Brock, come on, man,” Flash tried again. He reached out a hand, only to stop as Eddie flinched away from him. He dropped the appendage with a frustrated grimace. “... _Eddie_ ,” he tried again, palms up and open, attempting to display himself as entirely nonthreatening. “You gotta talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

Eddie was silent, glaring hard at Flash’s hands.

Flash looked to the symbiote again. “What the hell happened?”

The symbiote’s form quivered. “ **...Eddie doesn’t trust what we say.** ”

“Yeah, I can see that. But _why?_ ” Flash pressed.

“ **Man named the Maker. Did so many tests—drugged us—** ”

“Or, you’ve been lying to me for _years_ —” Eddie cut in, icy eyes refocused.

“ **Haven’t been lying!** ” the symbiote protested with a whine. “ ** _Maker_ ** **lied, Eddie! We didn’t do any of those things! Never would!** ”

“You _would_ say that!” Eddie retorted, uncurling just enough to yell at his other. “All of the lies, messing with my _head,_ with my _memories—!_ ”

“ **We** **_didn’t_** **, Eddie, wasn’t** **_real—!_** ”

“Maybe I’d know better if I didn’t have _you_ screwing with my thoughts, you _damned—_ ”

“That’s _enough!!_ ” Flash shouted, grabbing one of Eddie’s wrists, physically pulling the man’s focus to him. The other man startled at the outburst, too surprised to free his hand from Flash’s grip. “This is getting us absolutely fucking _nowhere_ , and it is _three in the morning_ ,” Flash glowered. “If you’re so worried about it messing with your head, then just, I don’t fucking know—Let _me_ host the symbiote while you sort your shit out!”

Something in Eddie’s expression cracked, for a split-second. Not long enough for Flash to know what nerve he’d struck, but enough to know something had hit home in the demand.

The older man seemed to slowly deflate, not curling back up in his defensive huddle, but still turning away from both of them.

The symbiote let out a soft whine. “ **Eddie…** ”

Eddie dropped his head, scowling, but quiet again. “...Fine.”

Flash’s brow furrowed in concern. That was easy. _Way_ too easy. “...Fine?”

“Take it,” Eddie asserted. Beside him, the symbiote’s eyes widened. “Go to him,” he told it. “I can’t...I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t with you right now, and we’re just…”

The symbiote maneuvered its form closer, chittering concernedly as it stilled near Eddie’s face.

Eddie looked at it for a long moment, before reaching for his other with his free hand. He trailed his knuckles along the side of its head, just beneath one of its eyes. A surprisingly affectionate gesture, though his hand still shook. “...We’re hurting each other again, like this.”

The symbiote let out a low trill. “ **Said we wouldn’t, Eddie…** ” Then, more emphatically, “ **Said we’d always be** **_together._** ”

Flash openly stared now, baffled at the pair in front of him. It was quickly becoming apparent that he’d volunteered to be thrown into the deep end of this mess, when he’d agreed to let Venom crash on his couch for the night. He’d thought Eddie would need a little help reorienting himself, maybe. For the symbiote to need a little time to calm down.

He didn’t expect... _this._

“This is temporary,” Eddie promised the symbiote. “At least until...Until I know this is—Until I know what I saw wasn’t—” He cut himself off, then, eyes moving from the symbiote, to Flash. His gaze dropped. His hand hovered by his other, like he’d run his fingers along the symbiote’s form again, but his fingers were frozen in place. “... _please,_ love.”

One more lingering look, something unspoken, and then the klyntar had disappeared again beneath Eddie’s skin. Flash could still sense it, still _felt_ the way it moved, flowing from Eddie’s wrist to Flash’s hand. Up his arm. Symbiotic cells, merging with his own, blooming through his veins. A connection clicking back into place. And then, a second voice in his head, rumbling deep, through the very core of him.

**_...We’re sorry, Flash._ **

Beside him, Eddie lifted his head, still looking worse for wear, but ever so slightly more alert. More aware. Still, he looked physically pained as he choked out, “...thank you.”

“Uh,” Flash started, green eyes locked with blue. “...Right. Yeah. I guess, uh…” he slumped back into his wheelchair, mind more awhirl than it had been even twenty minutes ago. “...I guess this is happening.”

Eddie scowled at him. “Don’t think I won’t kill you if you decide to keep it, Thompson.”

Ah, that was more like it.

Flash countered the expression with a stiff grin. “Nice to see you too, Brock.”


	2. Houseguests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following morning, Flash tries to get some answers out of Venom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who made more bad decisions in life and can't stop writing, whoops

Flash left Eddie on the couch that night, to get some sleep. The symbiote’s feelings—the worry, the fear, the desperate longing to be taking care of Eddie—bled through their newly reconnected bond. It lasted just long enough for the klyntar to notice that Flash was feeling bitter about it all, and suddenly everything was locked down.

The bond was still there, but there was no sharing from the symbiote. It reminded Flash of the earlier times of their relationship, before he knew better. Before he knew he was hosting a living, thinking being, not just a tool to be suppressed and used. To be drugged into submission.

And now, Venom had been getting drugged _again,_ this time to the detriment of its host. A host who, at the best of times, was unpredictable. Unreliable.

_Unstable._

The veteran shifted onto his side, drawing the covers up to his chin. _Why?_ he questioned internally, knowing full-well the symbiote would pick up on it. _Why would you go back to him?_

 **_Eddie is my other_** , it answered simply. **_We promised. We...were trying to fix things, between us._ **

_Him?_ Flash scowled, his face half-buried by his pillow. _Him. Fixing things._

He didn’t buy it.

**_Please, Flash._ **

_I could have helped you instead. You could have come back to me,_ he thought back, unable to help himself. Unable to stop the bleed of his own hurt, left to fend for himself. Left to fight using Anti-Venom, while Eddie—

 **_More complicated than that,_ ** the symbiote argued. **_Not as simple as you want it to be._ **

Flash squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stamp down his feelings, prevent the symbiote from having to feel them second-hand. His friend was able to do it from its own side, easy enough.

He knew it wasn’t working, though, when the symbiote sighed in his head.

 **_Sleep now,_ ** it urged. **_Need to rest. We all do._ **

In the morning, he would realize the symbiote had sped up the process itself. As it happened, he fell asleep before he could even form the thoughts to argue.

* * *

Flash rolled out of his bedroom, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn with his hand. He looked blearily to the couch, half-expecting Eddie to be sleeping, still, what with the sun barely up.

Eddie was sitting upright, in the same spot he’d been in last night, only the back of his blond head visible.

 **_He’s awake_** , the symbiote informed its host.

 _Oh good_ , Flash responded, frowning. “Morning, Brock.”

Eddie grunted.

**_He’s tired._ **

Well, not like Flash had been in the mood for much conversation, either. Still, he needed explanations. The symbiote itself didn’t seem to understand exactly what was wrong with Eddie, so they were going to have to drag the information from its source.

Its grumpy, uncooperative, aggravating source.

The veteran made his way to the kitchen, to pour a bowl of cereal. “You get any sleep?” he asked glibly, determined to keep any talk as civil as possible. Whether he succeeded would be up to Eddie’s response.

Another grunt.

 **_A little sleep_** , the symbiote elaborated. **_Not very much._ **

From the kitchen, Flash could see the other man’s eyes were open, staring blankly at the dark tv screen. The remote was still on the coffee table, untouched. Apparently Eddie preferred zoning out to nothing rather than something remotely interesting. Flash poured milk into his bowl, glancing at his unmoving house-guest. “So...You, uh...You get your head sorted out?”

A third, annoyed grunt.

**_That one means ‘no.’_ **

So much for that, then.

Flash balanced his bowl on his lap, grabbing a spoon before rolling back over to the couch. He pulled up to the coffee table, taking a bite before studying Eddie. There were heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes, and he didn’t return Flash’s gaze, too preoccupied with whatever thoughts ( ** _Nightmares_** , the symbiote corrected) haunted his head. Now that Flash was actually looking, though, he noticed the other man was wearing a ratty gray tshirt, with jeans. Something that, on _anyone_ else, would be perfectly normal.

For Eddie though, it was weird.

“You were wearing clothes under the symbiote?” Flash questioned. Eddie looked instantly annoyed, as though irritated by both the inquiry, and the fact that he now had to move his eyes to glare properly at Flash. The veteran shrugged. “Thought you used the symbiote for that, since it can mimic fabric so well.”

Eddie returned his gaze to the tv, a few fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

“You’re very chatty today,” Flash deadpanned, eating more of his cereal. “Gotta say, I’m not sure I can handle you talking my ear off like this. Be nice if I could get a word in, maybe. Some back-and-forth.”

“Shut up, Thompson.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Flash chirped.

“I swear to god,” Eddie growled, “I will murder you in your sleep.”

“Yknow, for someone who’s constantly threatening to kill me, you seemed really freaked out by the prospect of me actually being dead,” the veteran observed, pointing to Eddie with his spoon. “ _That_ was weird.”

Eddie grunted.

 **_Doesn’t want to acknowledge you have a point_** , the symbiote interpreted.

Flash grinned, triumphant. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?” he prompted. “Big Bad Brock afraid of zombies, or what?”

Maybe the teasing was going too far. Maybe Flash could feel the symbiote making its agitation known, from all his digs at Eddie. Still, it was too cathartic for him to pass up.

“ _No_ ,” Eddie corrected with a snarl. “That’s idiotic.”

“Then what’s your deal?” Flash countered. “What made you think I was dead?”

Eddie scrutinized him for a moment. Studying him, like he was trying to figure out where to place a puzzle piece, with no picture on the box to guide him. “You don’t have Anti-Venom anymore.”

Flash grimaced. Eddie was bound to notice, since Flash could host Venom without problems, but he was hoping the other man wouldn’t realize how defenseless he’d been. “What about it?”

“Why don’t you have Anti-Venom?” Eddie pressed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“...Used it up,” Flash admitted reluctantly, leaning back in his wheelchair. “Spent a ton of it healing other people. Nearly didn’t have enough to heal myself. So,” he made an exploding gesture with his hand. “Gone, just like that. I’m out.”

Eddie continued to study him, as though not entirely convinced.

“Your turn,” Flash shot back, resuming his meal. “Why’d you think I was dead?”

“...The Maker told me,” Eddie confessed. “He showed me your grave. ‘In loving memory of Flash Thompson.’”

Flash raised an eyebrow. Well _that_ was fake—No way his mom would let his friends get away with putting ‘Flash’ instead of ‘Eugene.’ Then, the whole statement, ‘In loving memory.’ Sweet sentiment, but pretty bland, as far as gravestones went. He’d have to have a talk with Peter and MJ. Tell them to put something cooler on there than ‘In loving memory’ when the day actually came.

More importantly, though, was the matter of misinformation. People going around saying he was dead when he wasn’t. Not really slander, exactly, but he didn’t like the thought that there was someone out there trying to convince people that he’d kicked the bucket for...Well, for whatever reason they’d tried to convince Eddie he was living in the wrong reality.

“Who is this _Maker_ guy supposed to be, anyway?” Flash asked. “Friend of yours?”

 **_NO!!_ ** came the symbiote’s immediate, deafening growl. **_A liar! A liar and a villain_** ** _—_** ** _Lied to Eddie, drugged us, he_** ** _—_ **

Flash cupped a hand over his ear with a wince, as though that would have any effect on the voice booming in his head. “Okay, okay, I get it! Bad guy!”

Eddie watched him, a torn look in his eyes. Angry and sad, in equal measure.

“Jeez…” Flash sighed, and then frowned at the other man. “Okay, so we know the symbiote’s opinion. What’s yours?”

Blue eyes dropped as Eddie’s fingers clenched around the end of his shirt. He was quiet for a while, frustration plain in the tenseness of his shoulders. Ultimately, he muttered, “...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Flash repeated, incredulous. “And you’re gonna trust a guy you don’t know, who calls himself the _Maker_ like a cartoon villain with a god complex, instead of the symbiote.”

“It’s lied to me before,” Eddie argued, through grit teeth. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Even with the symbiote trying to block its feelings from Flash, he still felt the stab of pain from that statement. Just for a second.

They were digging into a well of hurt with this route. Not from whatever the drugs did, but from the past. From before Agent Venom. Issues that Flash didn’t know about, and didn’t know how to help with.

The veteran pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, he really hated all this complicated shit.

“Okay, well, you said you don’t know what’s real and what’s not right now, yeah?” he asked, steering the discussion into shallower waters. “That’s because of the drugs or...Or whatever happened?”

It had to be the drugs. The symbiote knew, and _he_ knew it had to be the drugs. But Eddie didn’t, not for certain, and Eddie would argue. Better to give him a little leeway than try to fight a brick wall.

The other man eyed him for a moment, but nodded. Progress.

“So, priority one is you figuring out which is which,” Flash determined. “In the meantime…” he trailed off, digging for his phone in the pocket of his pajama pants. He checked the time. He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t going to be what he hoped it was.

Yep, running late.

“I have to get ready for work,” Flash declared. He gestured to Eddie. “You can crash here while you’re...I don’t know, sorting through things.”

Eddie looked dubious. “Where are you working?”

“Uh, a school?” Flash provided with a laugh. He made his way back to the kitchen, placing his bowl in the sink before heading back toward his bedroom. “Did you forget that time when you threatened to kill my students?”

Eddie glanced away. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I remember that.”

“Yeah. Pretty shitty of you, honestly.”

“I was bluffing,” came the sheepish response.

Flash’s wheels nearly screeched as he halted them. He couldn’t have heard that right. No way. His mouth opened, but it took him a few tries before he actually got the words out. “You were _what?_ ”

“Bluffing,” Eddie repeated, this time holding eye contact. “I wouldn’t have...I wouldn’t do that.” He grimaced. “I wouldn’t have hurt the kids. That’s why I wanted to bring the fight outside in the first place.”

Flash didn’t know whether to laugh or wring Eddie’s neck.

“You brought _Toxin_ to _my_ school and threatened to—”

“I wouldn’t have hurt them!” Eddie protested. “I just wanted to provoke you so you would fight me!”

“That’s _it?_ ” Flash asked, exasperated, throwing his hands into the air. “ _That’s_ why? That’s the best plan you could come up with to pick a fight with me?! You still thought it was so important to _kill_ me that you brought _Toxin_ to a school full of _children!_ To commit _murder_ , Brock!”

The stupidest reasoning he’d ever heard. The actual worst. There were _plenty_ of ways he could have picked a fight without endangering other people. Hell, he could’ve talked to Flash first, instead of deciding to kill him immediately. Anything, anything at all, would have been better than putting those kids in danger.

Flash didn’t have time to unpack it all.

Before the other man could retort, Flash propelled himself into his room. “We’re talking through this shit when I get home!” he called, and then slammed the door shut.

**_Flash…_ **

“Did you know?” Flash demanded, tearing off his sleep shirt to grab a polo instead. “Did you know he was bluffing?”

 **_Wasn’t sure at the time_** , the symbiote clarified. **_Didn’t think he would, but…_ **

“Well, guess you were right,” the veteran huffed. “He wouldn’t. Because he was bluffing. Bastard comes into my school and threatens my kids, and tries to play if off because he was _bluffing_ _—_ ”

**_Flash._ **

He scowled as he finished getting dressed, staring down the symbiote as it emerged from his shoulder. His eyes narrowed at the wide, white eyespots. “What.”

**_Eddie needs help._ **

Flash snorted. “Yeah, I’ll fucking say.”

**_Need you to help him._ **

His hands paused as he moved to grab his keys from the dresser. His help. Him, Flash Thompson, specifically, to sort out Eddie Brock’s seemingly never-ending bullshit.

Yeah, he was definitely unqualified for this.

**_Please..._ **

Flash didn’t need the symbiote to share how it was feeling this time. Not with the heartbroken, desperate way it asked him for help. The way its eyes drooped as it looked at him. The veteran groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll _try_. But you’ve gotta know that this is a _steep_ uphill battle, and he’s probably going to be fighting us the whole damn way.”

 **_Know that,_ ** it acknowledged, voice a little more hopeful. Reassuring, like it was trying to convince Flash, along with itself. **_He can get better. He wants to._ **

Flash took a deep breath and held it. Started counting. Calm his own anger so he could deal with Eddie’s issues. Snapping at him wasn’t going to help anybody. And, of course, Eddie didn’t respond well to being snapped at. It just set him on the defensive, immediately. They wouldn’t be able to work with that.

He let out a sigh, and grabbed his keys.

When Flash exited his room again, Eddie was standing, arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Shoes on. Like he was ready to go somewhere.

“And you’re off to…?” Flash eyed him curiously.

“I’m coming with you,” Eddie stated flatly, zero room for argument in his tone. As if he was stating the obvious.

“Oh no,” Flash laughed, moving past him to grab his lunch from the fridge. “You absolutely are _not_.”   
  
Eddie scowled. “You think I’m just gonna let you take my other wherever you want?”

“You literally _gave_ it to me last ni—”

“ _Temporarily,_ ” Eddie stipulated. “Only until I get my memories sorted out. In the meantime, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You are not coming to school with me,” Flash stated. “Absolutely fucking not. You have _no_ right to—”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” the other man informed him, not budging. “You have my other. I’m coming with you, whether you think I have a _right to_ or not.”

Flash met Eddie’s glare. Already a losing battle, in less than twenty-four hours. _Fighting us from step_ **_one_ ** _up this stupid hill._

**_Never said it would be easy._ **

_Yeah, clever of you not to mention that_. The veteran wanted to weigh his options. Take some time to figure this out. He did. But he was running late, and Eddie was probably at _least_ as stubborn as he was, if not more so. He was sure there was probably some way through this. Something well-thought-out, that would work for all parties involved. He didn’t have time to sit and ponder and figure out what that method was.

So, sticking with improv. He’d figure it out as they went.

“God, _fine_ ,” Flash gave in, waving for Eddie to get a move on, out of the apartment. “We’ll get you a visitor’s badge and you can sit in my office or something, just do _not_ try to start shit at my school _again_ , alright?”

“I said I was—!” At Flash’s challenging glare, Eddie shifted, glancing away again. He hooked a thumb through one of the belt loops of his jeans, fidgeting with the material. To Flash’s surprise, he seemed to have the decency to look a _little_ ashamed. “...I won’t.”

“Good,” Flash breathed an internal sigh of relief. Looked like he could corral the other man, to a point. He’d have to figure out how to do it consistently. He rolled past, letting Eddie fall into place behind him. “Let’s go.”


	3. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Flash go to school, and Eddie makes an attempt to sort his shit out. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie’s POV for this chapter, because I wanted to explore the absolute mess that is his head right now. Also Flash took up cooking because...idk. I figure he’d teach nutrition and then feel super hypocritical for eating like, hot pockets.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going by Eddie _Sym_ ,” Flash scoffed as they made their way down the hallway of the high school. “Seriously? Could you be more on-the-nose with that?”

“What’s it to you?” Eddie demanded, keeping in step beside him, double-checking to make sure his visitor’s pass was properly attached to his shirt. Sym was a perfectly good pseudonym. It was succinct. Easy to remember. Plus, it wasn’t like he could just give out his real name, especially now that they were back in New York. “I was using it for work.”

“God, that’s even _worse._ ”

“Shut up, Thompson!” Eddie snapped.

Flash only rolled his eyes, having endured several other demands to shut up on the way here. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you’re going to pick a fake name, maybe don’t make it _super_ obvious who you actually are. I’m pretty sure that defeats the purpose.”

“I’ll take that under consideration, _Flash_ ,” the older man hissed.

To his credit, Flash only pouted at the tone. He pulled his keys out, rolling up to the door to his office and unlocking it. “Don’t give me shit about my name,” he scolded. “It’s a great name.”

“It’s a stupid name,” Eddie grumbled, brushing past the veteran to step inside. Or, he tried, intending to be rude, but Flash held the door open for him. Because, of course he did. Always doing the nice thing. The right thing.

Goddamn golden boy.

Eddie stood in the center of the tiny office. It was fairly typical, as far as shared offices went. Two desks, two computers, two extra folding chairs for visitors. Filing cabinets behind each desk. The other teacher must have been on vacation; A sad-looking plant sat in the corner of the leftmost desk, clearly dying for some attention.

The lack of a chair behind the rightmost desk made it obvious which was Flash’s.

“Brock, I need you to do me a favor.”

Eddie turned, looking back at Flash with a questioning look.

Flash gestured to the obvious lack of space for his wheelchair. The space which Eddie, with his bulky frame, currently occupied.

Eddie glared. Okay, so it was obvious Flash wanted him to move out of the way. That didn’t mean he had to, just at the behest of the veteran’s expression. Just because he was 'helping' didn’t mean Eddie had to play by his rules. “What?”

“Dude,” Flash breathed, aggravated. “For fu—Just get out of my way, will you?”

Eddie did, reluctantly, stepping over to the second desk to give the veteran enough room.

“Alright, so if we’re serious about you sticking with me like a massive tick—”

“We’re serious,” Eddie confirmed with scowl.

Flash shot him an unimpressed stare. “Right. I have classes to teach this morning, which I need to get to. Having you there during class would be...Well, frankly, weird as hell.” He waved a hand around the room. “You can stay in here, if you want, or—”

“No,” Eddie stated firmly. He gave up the symbiote, but only for now. To clear his head. That didn’t mean Flash could just abscond with it.

“— _Or_ ,” Flash continued irritably, “I’m pretty sure they’ll let you in the library if you want to...I dunno. Read, or something, until classes are done.”

Eddie snorted. “Do you not know what people do in libraries?”

“I am trying to make the best of a _really_ annoying situation,” Flash countered. “Those are your choices if you’re going to stay at the school. Office or Library.”

“Where’s the gym?” Eddie asked.

“You’re not coming to the gym!” Flash protested.

“If I’m going to check on you, I need to know where it is,” Eddie argued.

“Just...Fuck.” Flash rubbed his eyes, and then used the same hand to point at the computer on his desk. “There’s online maps of the school on the computers. Use _those._ ” He grabbed a few items from the desk. Whistle. Notepad. Pens. More stuff than Eddie thought was strictly necessary for a gym teacher, if he were honest. Storing them under the seat of his wheelchair, Flash maneuvered past Eddie again to head out the door. “I need to get to class. Stay out of trouble.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down the older man. “I mean it.”

“I’m not going to _do_ anything,” Eddie growled. He was an adult—older than Flash. The veteran shouldn’t keep treating him like a damn child.

“Good. See you at lunch,” Flash stated. Then, he was gone, letting the door shut behind him and leaving Eddie alone.

Eddie’s eyes lingered on the door for a moment, before turning to the computer. He moved behind Flash’s desk to use it, not bothering to pull up one of the guest chairs, since he didn’t intend to stay long.

The map of the school was easy enough to find. The browser homepage was the school’s website, with a handy map for students among the top links. He studied it for a minute. The gym wasn’t far. The library was more toward the middle of the school. He could wait outside the gym while Flash taught. That didn’t count as ‘starting shit.’ He’d just be looking. Keeping an eye on him, a dead man who was hosting his other…

Except, Flash was decidedly not dead.

He really did need to figure out the mess that had been made of his memories. Being at the school might all be pointless, if the symbiote was lying and Flash was just some other elaborate trick. One big, detailed hallucination, completely wasting his time. Eddie narrowed his eyes, standing up straight.

He could research some things, at the library. The timeline of events. Maybe some legal documents, if he could track them down.

He could probably research using Flash’s computer, but he didn’t trust it. If this was a hallucination brought on by the symbiote, he could force it to be more complicated. More detailed. Make it too hard to maintain the ruse, and find the holes. That would be easier to do at the library.

He left Flash’s office.

It only took a few minutes to actually reach the library. The librarian on duty looked surprised to see him, so obviously not a student, but after spotting his visitor’s badge, she smiled politely. “Hi there, can I help you find anything?”

“I was hoping to use one of the computers,” he told her. “For research.” He shifted, uncomfortable as she glanced over him. Tshirt and jeans. Hardly the look of someone who used to be an investigative reporter. Maybe he should’ve shaved his beard—

He didn’t have a beard. Just stubble.

The librarian nodded to him, extending her arm to gesture to the row of computers further inside. “They’re right over there. Let me know if you need any assistance with the system.”

Eddie thanked her, picking a computer station where he could keep an eye on the entrance at the same time. As he pulled up a new browser window, he paused, wondering exactly what he should start looking for.

Nothing on the symbiote. He doubted there were any public records of it that could help him make sense of it.

Maker, maybe. He might be working on some sort of top-secret projects, but he had to have come from somewhere. Eddie just had to track down his origin. Something about not being the Mr. Fantastic that Eddie knew about.

He’d start with that.

* * *

 

After close to an hour, the school bell rang, and Eddie had learned nothing about the Maker. Plenty of documentation for Reed Richards, which he was fairly certain the symbiote wouldn’t know much about. Nothing for a strange counterpart with a metal bucket on his head, who wielded scalpels and an unsettling grin.

 

* * *

 

The bell rang again, and still, no closer.

 

* * *

 

The bell rang.

 

* * *

Eddie sat back in his chair with an annoyed sigh. This research was getting him nowhere. Both the Maker and his symbiote were dead ends, and his memories were still a tangled, incomprehensible mess. He needed to try something else.

He could try remembering something simple, instead. Some fact about his life that would be clear as day, untouched by the Maker, or the symbiote, and then follow through from there. Eddie thought back. Thought about big events, like Sin-Eater.

No, Sin-Eater was too involved with the symbiote.

High school, maybe. Wrestling.

No, that stuff didn’t matter anymore.

His childhood, with his father, and his sis—

He didn’t have a sister.

Right?

Something that didn’t involve his sister, or lack thereof. Something he could verify…

He was hit by a car, as a kid. That was a lasting memory, which served no purpose for anyone to tamper with. There would be hospital records he could check—

No.

Wait.

Backwards.

He hit a child with a car.

But, he remembered. He remembered being in the road.

Why was he in the road?

The child he hit—They were playing in the—Were they playing? Why were they in the road? He was in the road because there was...

He didn’t know.

He remembered headlights, at his eye level. Staring into the headlights of a car. They made his head hurt.

Eddie was driving the car.

His dad—father—Dad?

No, he always called him Father.

His dad yelled his name. But, he was driving, his friends were talking, he was drunk and he was dizzy and his head hurt; he couldn’t hear his father. But, he remembered the yell, the tone behind the syllables of his name. An angry tone. More anger at Eddie _being_ there, than the fear that his son was about to—

Screeching tires. His father, yelling. Pain. Black. Hospital. His head hurt.

The maid took care of him.

What was the maid’s name?

Who was in the car? Were people with him?

What was the kid’s name?

Why were those memories bleeding together, when they happened at such different ages? He could drive, but he was a kid, but he was drinking, but he was playing in the road, he didn’t mean to—his father blamed him, they all blamed him, he was a stupid _kid_ , but he was in the hospital and everything hurt and _god_ his head felt like it was going to _split—_

The bell rang.

The noise was loud and intrusive, and sent such a jolt through his heart that, for a moment, Eddie thought he’d been electrocuted. He blinked a few times, eyes eventually registering the sight of computer in front of him, still with his last query half-typed in search bar.

_Car accident, San Francisco, California, Year:_

...what year?

Which was it? Did he get hit by a car, or did he hit someone else? Did both happen? Neither? Why would the symbiote tamper with a memory like that? Why would the Maker—

God, his head _hurt_.

The symbiote wasn’t keeping any headaches at bay.

Of course it wasn’t.

Flash Thompson had it. Flash, who was dead, but who was also letting them crash at his apartment. Who was teaching gym class until lunch time.

It was lunch time now.

Eddie pushed himself away from the computer, standing brusquely. He strode out of the library, only muttering a quick “Fine, thank you,” when the librarian asked him if everything was alright.

A blatant lie. He hadn’t been ‘fine’ for years.

He found himself in crowded hallways, as the students moved from their classrooms to their various preferred spots for eating. Waves and waves of them, so many that Eddie could barely navigate through. He followed the flow of people part of the way, but with everyone blocking the doors and signs now, he couldn’t remember which way to go. Which way he’d even come from. How he got here.

The gyms were in the back of the school. The library had been in the middle. He had to go—

_Shit._

He was lost.

He was lost and Flash Thompson had his symbiote and he couldn’t remember anything. Why did he give his other away? Why would he trust Thompson? Why had he been so damn _stupid?_

Why did he run out into the road, such a dumb, stupid _child—_

“Eddie!”

It wasn’t his father’s voice calling him.

It was Flash’s.

Eddie turned, spotting the veteran only a few feet away, looking up at him with a mix of annoyance and concern. Eddie stared at him, and Flash’s expression grew less irritated and more...something. Something else. Eddie couldn’t parse it.

Probably talking to the symbiote, in his head. Eddie could never tell when Flash did that, unless the veteran purposefully made it obvious. He was too subtle with it. Too good at it. Too good at _everything—_

“Hey, Eddie,” Flash spoke again, approaching him. “You’re looking a little woozy there, man.” He gestured for Eddie to follow him. “C’mon, let’s go back to my office.”

Eddie followed, finding that Flash’s office was only down the hall.

He’d been so close.

Flash held the door open for him again. After Eddie was inside, the veteran moved past him, placing a tupperware container of rice and vegetables on his desk. He openly stared at Eddie as he started eating, eyes flicking to one of the empty chairs. “You, uh...You gonna sit down?”

Eddie glanced at the chair. It wavered in his vision. Dizzy. Headache.

He sat down.

“You’re not looking so great,” Flash observed. “Your eyes keep kinda glazing over. You okay?”

“The fuck do you think?” Eddie retorted.

If the angry question bothered Flash, he didn’t show it. “Did you go to the library?”

“Yes,” Eddie confirmed. “Tried to do some research, on the timeline of...things. See what was and wasn’t in line with what I remember.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, actually,” Flash commented, taking another bite of his lunch. “Any luck?”

 _Why is he even asking?_ Eddie groused internally. If he was a trick of the symbiote’s, he should know already. But, the symbiote also knew Flash’s mannerisms. Could mimic him perfectly, like the codex of Agent Venom. It could be playing dumb.

Or, this was real, and Flash Thompson really _was_ trying to help him.

He wouldn’t do that.

...Or, he would.

He was—is—was—? Agent Venom was a hero. Flash Thompson, by proxy.

“Brock, did you get anything to eat?”

Eddie blinked. What kind of question was that? “What?”

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast,” Flash shrugged. Then paused. With a sigh, he pushed over the other half of his lunch. “Here. Eat that.”

Eddie glared at the the dish like it had personally offended him. “Why?”

“Because you are _super_ out of it right now, and I’m guessing low blood sugar isn’t helping,” Flash explained, nodding to the tupperware again. “Go on.”

“I don’t want your _pity_ , Thompson,” Eddie snarled.

“Good, because I’m not offering pity, I’m offering a pilaf,” Flash countered, crossing his arms.

Slowly, begrudgingly, Eddie ate the food. It pissed him off, having Flash provide for him. It pissed him off _more_ that the pilaf was actually pretty damn tasty. He finished it off quickly, only to shove the empty dish back at Flash.

“Good?” Flash asked, though whether he meant Eddie’s attitude or his own cooking was unclear.

Eddie grunted, sulking in his chair.

A pause, and then Flash broke out his dumb, dashing, dimpled grin. “Well, at least I don’t have to deal with you being a picky eater on top of everything,” he chuckled. “It’ll be easier knowing you actually _like_ my cooking.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he grit his teeth. “I never said I—!”

“Didn’t have to,” Flash smirked, and then tapped the side of his head, “Since I’ve got someone fluent in Eddie Brock-ese up here.”

So, the symbiote could tell Eddie liked the food. And told Flash.

“Traitor,” Eddie grumbled.

Flash laughed. “You’re starting to sound more like yourself, at least.” He stashed the tupperware, and then woke up his computer with a shake of the mouse. “I’ve got a bunch of administrative shit to do for the afternoon, so you can stay in the chair, I guess.”

“To keep an eye on you,” Eddie confirmed.

“Yeah, sure. That,” the veteran rolled his eyes. “Just be quiet so I can get some work done. We can talk about stuff when you’re less out of it.”

Eddie huffed a breath through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest and reclining. “Fine.” He watched as Flash worked, the veteran focused wholly on the paperwork in front of him. Eddie couldn’t tell if the pauses in his behavior were just him thinking, or discussing things with the symbiote. Either way, the room grew quiet.

Eddie’s head still hurt some, but the pain dulled while he watched Flash work. It wasn’t exactly interesting work to watch, and Eddie’s eyes began drooping, the lack of sleep from the night before beginning to catch up with him. The chair wasn’t too comfortable, but the room itself was. Cool, but not cold. Quiet, and secure. The occasional click of a computer mouse broke the silence, but only just.

The bell rang for afternoon classes, but Eddie missed it. He was too exhausted this time to notice, lulled to sleep by the soft tapping of Flash’s fingers on the keyboard.


	4. We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio has a Talk. They are all disasters at communication.

After a good dinner (which Eddie refused to admit was good, but the symbiote assured Flash his other had enjoyed), Flash decided Eddie was focused enough to start talking. The older man sat on the couch again, his legs curled up beneath him as he leaned tiredly sideways, only the back of the couch to support him. It didn’t look very comfortable, but Flash didn’t bother to point it out.

The man fell asleep in a fold-out chair earlier, after all. He had to be exhausted.

“So,” Flash started, “Toxin.”

Eddie grimaced, his eyes immediately taking a far-off look.

“You understand why I’m so pissed about you _bluffing_ , right?” Flash asked. He knew it wasn’t relevant to their current issues, but he couldn’t just let this one go. Not now that he had Eddie here to answer for his actions. “‘Cause it sure seemed like you didn’t, this morning.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt the kids,” Eddie repeated, annoyed edge already back in his voice. “I was only after you. You and—” he stopped, like he’d choked on the next words.

Flash watched him carefully. “And the symbiote,” he finished. “You wanted to kill Venom, for your past issues, and now suddenly you two show up here and it tells me you were _working on things._ ”

“...We were,” Eddie muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“And now that’s all gone to shit again?” Flash prompted.

Eddie was quiet.

Nailed it. Not that Eddie was going to admit it.

The veteran sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his face. Every conversation was going to be a headache, he knew. “I just need to make sure that the guy I’m dealing with now isn’t the same guy who would walk into a high school in the middle of the day, deadly symbiote in tow, with the intention of murdering a man in front of his own students.” 

**_Flash—_ **

Flash ignored the warning in the symbiote’s tone. “If I’m going to help you, Brock, you have to put some damn effort in to prove that you’ve changed.” 

Eddie was visibly uncomfortable, now, his expression dark. Defensive. Every muscle tensed. “I wouldn’t have _hurt them_ , I—”

“But traumatizing them is fine?” Flash spoke over him, fully fed up with the repetition in Eddie’s retorts. “Sure, maybe you wouldn’t have hit any of the kids, but punching’s not the only way to _hurt_ people.”

 **_He knows that_** , the symbiote stressed in Flash’s head, its voice pained. **_Eddie knows that better than anyone._ **

_Maybe he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he understands it,_ Flash shot back.

Eddie sat silently, only looking up to glare at Flash. Then, after a moment, his gaze dropped again. He leaned his head into the side of the couch, seeming to calm. If it weren’t for the irritation so plain on his face, Flash would have assumed he legitimately felt ashamed. “...I won’t.”

“You won’t _what?_ ” Flash pressured, his lips drawn into a scowl.

“...I won’t do something like that again,” Eddie concluded softly. “I don’t want to be that person anymore.” His head lowered, and with a bitter rumble, he added, “I never _wanted_ to.”

“But you were,” Flash pointed out, his arms tightly folded. “You _were_ , and you _did_ , and you need to swear to me that you’re willing to face the consequences when you fuck up from now on, instead of making excuses.”

Eddie shot him a confused, irritated look. “ _Excuses?_ ”

“Like the fact that you were _bluffing_ ,” the veteran elaborated. “That you were bluffing, or you didn’t mean to, or _whatever._ When you fuck up, just admit you were an asshole so we can _move on._ ”

The way Eddie straightened off the couch told Flash that he’d struck a nerve. “Is that what you’re expecting?” Eddie growled. “You want me to just roll over and apologize when _you_ think I’ve fucked up?”

 **_Flash, this isn’t working_**. 

The veteran grit his teeth as he matched Eddie’s glare. Obviously, having Flash calling the shots wasn’t something Eddie was going to like. At all. Letting _Eddie_ of all people call the shots wasn’t something the veteran was willing to do. To say this wasn’t working was a gross understatement.

 **_Can’t force him_** , the klyntar pointed out.

_Yeah, I can tell that much, but I—_

**_Need to work_ ** **with** **_him, Flash. Not just give orders._ **

The input caught Flash off-guard, as he looked at an increasingly agitated Eddie Brock. The only person the guy ever seemed to truly listen to was the symbiote. Their bond was what he’d trusted. 

At least, until it fell apart.

 **_Falls apart when we aren’t working together_** , the symbiote elucidated. **_Falls apart when we are Eddie, and the symbiote. When we are no longer_ ** **we.**

So, it fell apart with an arrangement like they had now, with their two groups: Flash and the symbiote, together, and Eddie, alone. ‘Us’ and ‘you.’ The arrangement sent them to ‘me _versus_ you’ faster than they could even find the root of the problem. There was no ‘we,’ not including all three of them.

Even if the current problem was boiling down to Eddie alone, they still needed _all_ of them to be a part of the equation to fix things. 

 _When you fuck up,_ he’d said. Nothing in there implying Eddie was ever part of the solution. Only the problem. 

_Always_ the problem.

“Well?” Eddie demanded, Flash’s silence clearly only exacerbating his anger. “Do you have anything to say to that, or are you two just carrying on without me?” 

Flash let out a low breath. No wonder Eddie was so quick to jump to the defensive. Flash kept _putting_ him there.

 **_Feels like you’re not listening to him_** , the symbiote added.

Flash felt like he’d been listening, but in retrospect, it was more...waiting. Waiting for Eddie to spout some more bullshit that he’d have to counter, and correct. Which led to Eddie feeling defensive, and repeating himself, because he— 

Because Flash _wasn’t_ listening.

The veteran placed his head in his hand, biting the inside of his lip. Countering and correcting wasn’t going to fix Eddie’s memories. He knew that. But, clearly, it wasn’t going to fix anything _else_ , either. 

Eddie had a point, but Flash debated if he should actually say the next words. They felt so unnatural. 

“...You’re right,” Flash muttered.

“...What?”

Flash looked up through his fingers, spotting how Eddie had completely stilled in his surprise. He was still tense, like he expected to be mad at the next thing that came out of Flash’s mouth, but for now...completely off-guard.

Apparently _hearing_ that he was right was unnatural, too. 

“You, uh…” Flash started, grimacing. 

 **_Flash._ ** The symbiote made its own frustration known, in the growl of its voice, even as it added, **_Please._ **

“...You’re right,” Flash repeated. “Now that I think about it, that’s...That’s not a fair solution.” 

Eddie only watched him, like he was waiting for all of this to be some kind of trick, at his expense.

 _God, he’s paranoid_ , Flash noted.

 **_...has reason to be_** , came the tired response. **_Not often that people listen to us. Either of us._ **

Well, now Flash thoroughly felt like a dick.

The veteran crossed his arms again, leaning his head back. He’d rather look at the peeling paint on his ceiling rather than meet Eddie’s eyes, at the moment. “Okay, so...With Toxin, yes, you were an asshole. That’s not up for debate. We all know you had really shitty reasoning for doing really shitty things back then.” He held up a finger as he continued. “ _But_ , I can’t just...I can’t _expect_ that of you. I can’t judge every situation like you’re gonna be in the wrong all the time. That isn’t fair.”

Eddie remained quiet.

When Flash ventured a glance at the other man, Eddie wasn’t looking at him. He was looking down, contemplative, as one hand fiddled with the edge of his t-shirt. 

Calmer. 

 **_Better_**. 

Flash’s lips twitched up in a smile at the small success, feeling the symbiote relaxing too. “So, we need a different plan.”

Blue eyes flicked up to Flash’s face, less fiery, but still wary. “What do you mean?”

“If some bad shit goes down, we need to be able to talk about it, constructively,” Flash elaborated. “Pretty sure we all have a bad track record for keeping our lives _normal_. If some supervillain attacks, or there’s a fight…Or, y’know, if I do something that makes you decide you need to kill me again.” He shot the other man a grin, hoping it conveyed that the last option was a joke. 

... _Mostly_ a joke.

By some miracle, Eddie’s lips quirked up in a smirk. 

Another win. Flash continued, trying to keep the momentum going. “We need to be able to _talk_. Like, actually talk. Not just you repeating yourself over and over, and me…” Flash winced. “...Lecturing you.”

“That does sound infinitely less infuriating,” Eddie commented.

The symbiote practically purred beneath Flash’s skin. **_Much better._ **

“Yeah,” Flash grinned. “Might be nice.”

Eddie’s smirk faded, but he looked at Flash seriously now, rather than angrily. “What are you suggesting, then?”

Flash breathed in, bracing himself. “...I still need you to admit it when you _are_ wrong,” he stipulated. Before Eddie could protest, he hastily added, “But, I also need to hear you out more.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “And if it’s determined that I’m _not_ just being an asshole?”

Flash offered him a smile, and a single-shouldered shrug. “Then...We tackle it from there. Together.” 

All three of them, on the same team. It had happened before, but...rarely. It was refreshing, when they did. When they proved they _could_ actually work with each other.

“Together,” Eddie repeated, brow furrowing, unconvinced.

“Yeah, like...like symbiosis,” Flash explained. “But, y’know. Between the three of us, instead of us just bashing heads all the time.”

At that, Eddie looked even less impressed. “Like _symbiosis_.”

 **_Flash, no,_ ** a panicked plea lit up in Flash’s mind. **_Eddie doesn’t trust us right now—Doesn’t trust symbiosis—_ **

Oh, right.

Shit. Backtrack.

“Well, I mean—” Flash faltered under Eddie’s glare. “Maybe not—Okay, _look_ ,” he gestured to Eddie. “You’re struggling. You need help, which means you need somebody to have your back.” He gestured to himself. “Which is what I’m suggesting _I_ do, by, y’know, not being such a jerk and listening better. So we can face all this stuff as a _team_.”

The other man contemplated him for a moment. “If you’re trying to convince me you aren’t some hallucination concocted by my other, you aren’t making a great case for yourself.”

 _Dammit_.

“I’m not trying to convince you I’m—Isn’t me being _alive_ proof enough, for that? You said I was—” Flash cut himself off with a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands. This wasn’t the point. Him being a hallucination or not wasn’t the _point._ The point was that Eddie was confused, and hurt, and needed help while he sorted himself out.

Whether he believed Flash was _real_ or not didn’t change what Flash could _do._

“I just want to help,” the veteran grumbled. “I just want to help, and for us to be able to _talk_ without biting each other’s heads off.”

Another analyzing, quiet gaze. Then, Eddie shifted, drawing his legs up, and leaning on them instead of the couch. “...Come out, love.”

Flash shot him a baffled look before he felt the symbiote, stretching beneath his skin. It emerged from Flash’s shoulder, a small, snakelike tendril with eyes. Its head was bowed, slightly. Sheepish. Worried.

Eddie studied it, then Flash. Then, the symbiote again. “If I’m going to go along with this, you need to be a part of the agreement,” he declared. “No hiding in Thompson for these conversations. Speak to me directly. Stop leaving me out of whatever decisions you’re making with _him._ ” 

Flash grimaced at the tone, but the symbiote’s head perked up. 

“ **Won’t leave you out** ,” it promised. “ **Won’t hide from you.** ”

“Why did you in the first place?” Eddie questioned, hard expression not letting up.

“ **...Thought you wouldn’t want to see,** ” the symbiote explained, eyes drooping. “ **Thought we’d hurt you, if you saw us. Thought you’d be angry.** ”

“I’d rather know what you’re up to,” Eddie stated flatly.

 _You’re not ‘up to’ anything_ , Flash internally groused. _You—_

“ **Will stay out, when it’s the three of us** ,” the symbiote acquiesced. “ **Will talk to you directly.** ”

Flash frowned at how quickly the symbiote accepted Eddie’s demands, but it did know its other man far better than he did. Maybe it was what Eddie needed. The veteran leaned back in his wheelchair, looking expectantly at Eddie. “Satisfied?”

“For now,” Eddie confirmed. “As long as the rest of the plan still applies.”

Flash raised his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Eddie to still approve of the whole plan, once he’d blurted out the symbiosis comparison. “Uh...Yeah. Yeah, I’m good with that.”

“Then…” Eddie hesitated, but ultimately, smirked again. “It seems we have a deal, Thompson.”

It was Flash’s turn to perk up. “Yeah?”

Eddie nodded. “You agree to listen more, I’ll agree to admit when I’m…” he looked away, reluctantly muttering, “...when I’m in the wrong.”

The veteran couldn’t help his grin. “Does the plan apply retroactively, by any chance? Like, about Toxin?”

A scoff. “You’ve already made it clear what your judgement is, for that.” At Flash and the symbiote’s waiting expressions, however, Eddie sighed. “...I shouldn’t have done it. And…” he winced, but still managed to add a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Flash’s mouth parted as he stared at Eddie with widening eyes. The admission was more than he could have hoped for, when he’d woken up this morning. 

The apology was something he wouldn’t have even _dreamed_ of.

“You were an ass at the time, too, though,” Eddie continued, narrowing his eyes.

...Yep, too much to hope for.

Flash shut his mouth with a flat, frustrated stare. A part of him couldn’t even be angry. He should’ve known Eddie would deflect. From the feeling he was getting from the symbiote, it hadn’t been surprised in the slightest. The veteran snorted, shaking his head. “You know what? Still progress. I’ll take it.”  



	5. Why Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie goes to bed (or couch, rather), while the Symbiote clears some things up for Flash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a chapter that was supposed to go before this where they go shopping for some Eddie-size clothes, but this one fits better here imo. Also I made the mistake of trying to do this fic for Camp Nano, so I can actually promise there will be more updates coming! Just, later, so I don't run out of buffer.
> 
> If anyone wants to yell at me in the meantime, you can find me on tumblr and twitter @dyradoodles! I'm happy to chat about comics or general nerdery, or even spoil all my plans for this fic if you ask lol

“Here, Brock,” Flash nudged the other man with the pillow he held, pushing it none-too-gently at Eddie’s face. 

Eddie opened one eye, grumbling and snatching the pillow away. He shuffled onto his side to turn away from Flash, facing the back of the couch and shoving the pillow under his head.

“ **Means ‘thank you** ,’” the symbiote chirped.

Eddie scoffed.

Once the other man had largely settled, Flash took the extra blanket he’d grabbed from his closet and tossed it on top of him. It sat, still folded, across Eddie’s bare shoulders. “That too.”

Eddie grumbled again, shifting to correct the blanket’s position.

“ **Appreciates it** **but doesn’t want to admit it.** ”

“I regret telling you to speak out loud,” Eddie said, half-muffled by the pillow and no bite behind his words.

Flash felt warm amusement radiating off the symbiote. The veteran reoriented his wheelchair, leaving Eddie on the couch so he could turn off the lights. “...G’night, Brock.”

A grunt.

“ **Goodnight** ,” said the symbiote, though Flash couldn’t tell if it was a wish for Eddie, or another translation. It sank into Flash’s skin again, just as the veteran hit the lightswitch and blanketed the living room in darkness.

Flash shut his bedroom door, letting out a low, tired breath of relief. “Well, survived day one,” he commented quietly.

 **_Did good_** , his friend praised.

“Dunno about that,” Flash huffed. “Maybe _okay_ , considering the circumstances.” He stretched his arms over his head, feeling satisfying pops along his spine. “We’re all alive, so I guess that counts as clearing the first hurdle.”

**_Talking, too. Cooperating._ **

“...To a _degree_ ,” Flash stressed as he moved to his bed.

 **_More than we were managing on our own_**.

At that, Flash frowned. He crawled under the covers, the symbiote extending a tendril to switch off the lamp on his bedside table. As Flash curled up, he stared into the darkness, eyes adjusting rapidly with the aid of the symbiote. Within seconds, he could see everything in the room again. He stared at the window, the glow from the streetlights below peeking through the cheap blinds.

“...Hey, bud?”

**_Yes, Flash?_ **

“Why me?” the veteran questioned. 

The symbiote wriggled somewhere around his kidney, projecting the feeling of what Flash could only describe as a question mark.

“Why come to me, to ask for help with Eddie,” Flash elaborated, his voice quiet in the dark. “You know how hard it’s gonna be for us to get along.” 

Even when they fought on the same side, things were strained between the two men. Surely there was somebody else who they could have gone to. Someone better qualified. Someone they trusted. 

Someone _closer_ than on the other side of the _country,_ at least.

Though, the symbiote’s silence on the matter was starting to worry Flash. “You guys have people to help you in California, don’t you?” he pressed. 

 **_Doctor Steven_** , his friend admitted, after a while of thinking. **_Liz Allan—_ **

“Woah, _what?!_ ” Flash exclaimed, only to promptly slam his hand over his mouth. He paused, hoping he hadn’t woken Eddie with the shout. After a few moments of silence, he hissed, “ _Liz Allan?!_ Like Elizabeth Allan- _Osborn?!_ ”

 **_Liz helped us_** , the symbiote elaborated. 

“With _what?_ ” Flash asked, baffled. “Why would you—You went to _Alchemax_ for help?”

 **_We were…_ ** the symbiote hesitated, discomfort plain in the way it was squirming under Flash’s skin. **_We were regressing._ **

Flash felt a rush of hot anger spreading up his spine. Regressing. Reverting to the _old_ way Venom operated. With violence and rage and adrenaline—Everything they’d tried so hard to break _away_ from.

Of course Venom had started regressing once the symbiote went back to Eddie. Of course Eddie would— 

 **_Not Eddie’s fault!_ ** the symbiote protested with a snarl. **_FBI injected him with something. It hurt us. Kept us from bonding properly._ **It sent Flash an image of Eddie, sitting in a pew, in some Californian church. Not praying, but thinking, wracking his brain for some way to fix things. For some way to keep the symbiote from reverting to what it used to be.

To keep them from becoming what _Venom_ used to be.

 **_Eddie’s idea, to go to Alchemax_** , it explained. **_Got Liz and Doctor Steven to help. Got us medicine._ **

Another set of images. A case with a set of syringes, full of a clear liquid. Medicine to neutralize what the FBI had done to Eddie. Medicine that would make his body hospitable for the symbiote again. Make it _safe_. Eddie taking each one, religiously, refusing to miss even a single dose. Liz Allan, informing them they were cured. That they didn’t need the medicine anymore, and that the symbiote wasn’t in danger of regressing, either.

Flash blinked, his face scrunching as his vision returned to the sight of his bedroom.

**_Eddie wants us to be better._ **

The veteran’s eyes flicked to the door. “...Does he still want that?” he questioned. “Bud, I’m glad he helped you then, but that was before all this shit with the Maker, right?”

He could feel a wave of cold from the symbiote. Sadness. A deep, blue-black that felt like there was a hole in his core. **_Maker confused him_** , it insisted. **_Made him think...Made Eddie think I manipulated him._ **

So, Eddie would be fighting the desire to continue where they’d left off. To be better. A want, or a need, to put the past behind them, versus a distorted version of reality, where he thought everything in front of him was a lie.

_What a mess._

**_Liz and Doctor Steven might have helped, but the Maker could have found us again._ ** A black tendril emerged from Flash’s wrist, squeezing it gently. **_Thought if Eddie saw you, saw you were alive, he would…_ **

“You thought he’d snap out of it,” Flash guessed.

A lonesome hum. Confirmation.

Flash pulled his arm, wrapped in black, closer to his chest, rubbing along the symbiote’s skin with his opposite hand. “And he didn’t.”

 **_Don’t know what to do_** , his friend whined. **_Don’t know how to help him. Keep hurting him, instead._ **

Flash felt his heart constrict, unsure if the symbiote was clinging to it, or if it was his own reaction to its tone. Hurt. Heartbroken. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. 

 **_Keep seeing glimpses, like Eddie’s okay_** , it continued. **_Like he’s himself, again._ **

Just enough to give it some hope, before it all crumbled again. 

The veteran shut his eyes, stilling his hand. He kept holding on to where the symbiote had coiled around him, trying to send it something, anything, any sort of feeling of comfort. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, knowing his attempts weren’t nearly enough. 

 **_Scared, Flash._ ** The symbiote’s voice was small, in his head. Tiny, and wavering, like it would cry if it could. **_What if Eddie doesn’t—?_ **

“We’ll figure it out,” the veteran promised. “I dunno how yet, but we’ve dealt with worse, and with less information, right?” 

The symbiote quieted, its form squeezing Flash’s arm again.  
  
“He’s away from the Maker here,” Flash pointed out. “Yeah? And even if he doesn’t trust me, being alive is still a pretty good indicator that what the Maker told him is a bunch of bullshit.”

At that, the agitated creature calmed, its grip lessening. **_Eddie trusts you._ **

Flash snorted in disbelief. “You sure about that?”

 **_Yes,_ ** it asserted. **_May not think you’re real right now, but trusts you._ **

Well, that was a surprise. “...I wouldn’t have guessed that, based on how much he hates me.”

**_Knows you’re a good man, Flash._ **

“He...Wait, he knows because _you’ve_ told him I’m good, or he actually _thinks_ I’m—”

 **_Eddie thinks so_** , it clarified, a warm hum to its voice again. **_Eddie thinks you’re a good person._ **

“Boy, he doesn’t know shit about me, does he?” Flash chuckled. Then he flinched, as a tendril came out of the mass on his arm to gently bap him on the forehead.

 **_You are good_ ** , the symbiote assured him, **_We know it. That is why we came to you._ **

Flash couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. He got comfortable again, shutting his eyes. “Thanks, partner,” he murmured. “I’ll try my best.”

 **_You always do_** , it hummed back.


	6. Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash has Eddie walk him through some of what happened with the Maker, and doesn't like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the notes for this fic split into what are essentially just conversation topics, and oh god it's getting so long what have I done oh no
> 
> Marvel why can't you ever have your characters DISCUSS THINGS

‘Trying his best,’ for Flash Thompson, was a fairly common descriptor. ‘Trying’ being the operative word. ‘His best,’ not always enough to push him towards actually succeeding in his endeavors.

But, he reasoned, gotta start somewhere.

Eddie accepted his own bowl of cereal that morning, only glaring at it for a moment before beginning to eat. He sat on a stool at the kitchen counter today, veritably towering over the veteran in his wheelchair.

“Okay, so,” Flash pointed his spoon up at Eddie. “We gotta figure out how to sort out your memories.”

Eddie stared at him with a flat expression, chewing quietly.

“So,” Flash trailed off, spinning the end of the spoon a little. “How do we go about _doing_ that?”

“Beats me,” Eddie stated.

Flash glared at him. 

“What?” the other man scoffed, leaning on the counter. “I spent half a day in a library trying to resolve competing childhood memories and _failing_. I don’t know where the hell to start.”

Flash tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. “Wait, _competing_ memories? What?” He could feel the symbiote tilt its head along with him. “What do you mean?”

“Memories that feel like they happened at the same time,” Eddie supplied, resuming his breakfast. “But, they didn’t, or I can’t remember the details right.”

“And this is stuff from _before_ meeting the Maker, yeah?” Flash asked.

“Yes.”

The veteran took a bite of cereal himself, pondering as he chewed. “...So, your head’s _real_ fucked up now, is what I’m hearing.”

Surprisingly, Eddie snorted, a smirk on his lips. “That’s one way to put it, yes.”

Flash hummed.

“ **Tried to retrace our steps** ,” the symbiote piped up. 

“Which is hard, when the issues with my memory go back to long before I’d even _met_ you,” Eddie finished for it, brow furrowing. 

‘ _Because the Maker thought that’d be fun, I guess_ ,’ Flash mused, baffled. “Okay, so that’s...Not remotely helpful,” he muttered. Although, Eddie had been looking into it for a long while. He hadn’t spent the whole morning just on the memories. “What about the research from yesterday?” the veteran prompted.

Eddie made a noise somewhere halfway between a grunt and a groan.

Flash didn’t need the symbiote to interpret that one. ‘Bad’ came through loud and clear. 

“What were you looking into?” the veteran asked. “Maybe I can find something.”

Eddie looked dubious, but he did break his silence. “The Maker,” he answered. “He mentioned not being the Mr. Fantastic I was familiar with, so I tried to check into that.”

“Wait, hang on, so he’s like…” Flash shot the other man a flummoxed look. “ _Evil_ Mr. Fantastic? Like, are we talking about evil clones or something? Evil Reed Richards from a different dimension kinda bullshit?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and then, with a worried frown, muttered, “Maybe…”

“...Sounds fake, but alright,” Flash stated, shoving another spoonful of food into his mouth. “I guess I’ve dealt with weirder.”

“ **Maker was definitely real** ,” the klyntar growled. 

“Okay, well, you have to have your real memories in there somewhere,” Flash pointed out. “We just gotta figure out which ones are the fakes.”

“How, exactly, do you propose we do that?” Eddie asked flatly.

“I dunno, man, I’m not a psychologist,” Flash countered. “Maybe like, walk me through it? Have you talked to anyone but each other about what happened while you were with the Maker?”

Eddie and the symbiote looked to each other, silent. 

“Maybe,” Eddie eventually answered.

“...Oookay,” Flash dragged out eyeing the pair. “Weird point of contention. Never mind. What’s the first thing you remember before everything went to shit?”

Eddie’s lip twitched, as though he had some snarky response ready, but thought better of it as he caught the eye of the symbiote. His gaze dropped to the bowl in his hands, fingers idle around his spoon. “Fire,” he answered. “Pain. I was dying, and the damage was too much for my other to heal.”

At some point, Flash was sure he would look back on that answer and realize he should have expected something like that. Traumatic, terrifying, and too much for either Eddie or the symbiote to deal with. For now though, he hissed, “ _Shit._ Shit, okay.” With a wince, he nodded for Eddie to continue. “Then what?”

“I woke up with the Maker,” the other man recalled. “He told me my other was…’Effectively brain-dead,’ I think was how he put it.” 

Flash could feel the symbiote itching to retort, but he hushed it, internally. ‘ _I know you want to correct him, but I’m not sure that’s gonna help_ ,’ he told it.

The klyntar drooped, leaning more on Flash’s shoulder than suspending the tendril that formed its head. Sulking. Didn’t want to hear this bit. Didn’t like any of this. 

‘ _Easy, buddy_.’

“Then he told me the only way to fix it was to fix the connection with Klyntar, but…” Eddie grit his teeth as he trailed off, icy eyes meeting Flash’s. “...only _you_ had managed that.”

There was a storm of emotions behind the blue of Eddie’s irises, but Flash couldn’t quite sort through them. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s irritation was something he’d accepted, but the emotions his friend was interpreting weren’t directed at Flash. Even with the symbiote offering help, pushing impressions of _anger_. _Resentment. Helplessness._

_Self-loathing._

The last one caught Flash by surprise. Before he could inquire about it, though, Eddie continued.

“...That’s when he told me you were dead.”

Flash leaned back in his wheelchair, perplexed. “...Right.”

“He basically told me you were dead, and I couldn’t fix my other,” Eddie explained, his voice a sharp, bitter whisper. 

“...But, we’re both fine,” Flash couldn’t help but point out, jerking his head in the direction of the manifested symbiote, who was very much not brain-dead.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Sure.” His tone was light. Disbelieving.

“ **Flash is not a hallucination** ,” the symbiote assured its other.

Eddie regarded it with a dubious stare.

Flash heaved a sigh. “Okay. So I’m dead and the symbiote’s brain-dead,” he acknowledged. Only verbally, though. Not mentally. Mentally, it was insane. How would the symbiote even _go_ brain-dead? Why would the Maker claim _Flash_ was dead? Why would Evil Reed Richards do _any_ of this?

“...I left, after that,” Eddie continued. “I couldn’t…” his head lowered again, voice quiet. “I couldn’t deal.”

Flash watched the other man with a frown. If what his friend had explained was any indication—that Eddie had been willfully trying to _better_ Venom, by bettering himself _and_ the symbiote, as a team, then to lose it would destroy him. To lose his other, that violently, with no hope of restoring it—For things to finally be looking _up_ , just for it all to blow up in his face—  

Flash might break, put in that position. Probably fall right back to drinking, if he were honest. He’d be at a total loss.  

Eddie, though. Eddie was like a damn cockroach. Kept getting back up even if you killed him.

“What’d you do?” the veteran asked, expecting some hare-brained scheme or another to get the symbiote back up to strength. Bite off a dozen heads, maybe. Break into a pharmaceutical company to get more phenethylamine. That seemed up Eddie’s alley of go-to solutions.

“I turned it into a dog,” Eddie admitted.

“You did _what?!_ ” Flash exclaimed, hands flying to the sides of his face. A black tendril shot out, grabbing his bowl before it could spill or hit the floor. “You—How do you even—You can do that? No, that’s not—” he stopped himself, bringing his hands together in front of his lips, in some parody of prayer. He wasn’t exactly religious anymore, but there had to be some deity somewhere that could explain this level of _absolute bullshit_. 

He must not have heard correctly. 

“...I turned the symbiote into a dog,” Eddie repeated.

God dammit.

“Eddie,” Flash laughed, because how could he do anything but laugh? “You turned it...What the fuck? _Why?_ ”

Eddie, surprisingly, looked almost as baffled as Flash did. Confused, brow furrowed, staring blankly at the floor as if he didn’t believe the words himself. “It...It hurt too much.” he explained lamely. “It hurt, carrying it inside me and knowing it would only act on instinct. If it was outside, manifested—Connected to me by a chain—”

“You gave it a fucking _chain leash?!_ ” Flash asked, his voice cracking with the question. 

The symbiote was quiet on Flash’s shoulder, though it sent pulses of reassurance to the veteran. 

Calm. Unsurprised. 

Flash leaned into the feelings, inhaling sharply through his nose. Right. Remember what the symbiote said when they got here. It was all part of the drugging. The hallucinations brought on by the Maker’s experimentation. 

It hadn’t been a dog, let alone on a _leash_.

Eddie was staring at Flash, seemingly unsure if he should answer the veteran’s question or not. “...Yes?”

Flash forced himself to relax. It hadn’t actually happened. Well, Eddie _believed_ it might have, but from the mildly horrified expression on the other man’s face, he sure wasn’t _convinced_. At least, he didn’t _want_ to believe he’d turned his other into a dog.

That was a good sign.

“You seriously think you turned it into a dog?”

“I did,” Eddie stated firmly. “It was...I…” His eyes narrowed, and he looked away again, muttering. “Why didn’t I just…?”

“Why didn’t you just _what,_ Brock?” Flash pressed.

“...Why didn’t I _try_ anything?” Eddie asked, seeming to direct the question at himself, instead of Flash or the symbiote. “Why didn’t I try to get to Klyntar? _You_ did it, I’d just have to...I just...I turned it into a dog and I _gave up._ ”

“...Gave up on what?” 

“Everything,” Eddie answered, huffing a laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. “...I gave up on _everything._ ”

“For the record,” Flash started, holding a hand out, “Maybe I don’t know you all that well, but from our briefest interactions—That doesn’t sound like you _at all_.” Hell, the other man had pinned all his issues on Flash, back when he was Agent Venom. The behavior defied Eddie’s usual tactic of throwing all the blame on someone else, and attempting to murder them. He couldn’t see Eddie immediately throwing in the towel, like he was describing.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, though still a little dazed. “...That wasn’t even the weirdest part of it all, though. That was just when it started.”

Flash groaned, head flopping back in frustration. Of course it wasn’t. Before he could even begin to imagine what other horrors these hallucinations had in store, though, the alarm on his phone went off. 

Eddie startled, tensing.

The veteran took a deep breath, switching the alarm off.

“ **Time for work?** ” the symbiote asked. 

“Right at the...Okay, actually no, I’m not saying ‘right at the best part,’ even as a joke, because this all sucks,” Flash grumbled, moving to take Eddie’s cereal bowl from him. Before he took the dishes to the sink though, he levelled with the other man. “Eddie. You can’t turn the symbiote into a dog. That’s super fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I know.”

Flash hung his head with a defeated sigh. “Well, at least you _know_. Jesus.” He made his way to the kitchen, dropping off the dishes and grabbing his lunch. “I guess we’ll talk through this more later?” he questioned, shooting Eddie a searching look. “Because like...Seriously, dude, what the fuck.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, though his mind was clearly elsewhere as he stared at his hands.

“You coming to school with me again?” the veteran asked, hopeful Eddie would say no. Hopeful that the man would realize he needed to think this shit through. Take a damn break, or something.

“Yes.”

God _dammit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this silly spite fic! If you wanna chat about Venom stuff, feel free to hit me up on Twitter/Tumblr @dyradoodles!


	7. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and the symbiote discuss Eddie's memory, because he left out something important, and the symbiote has a lot of feelings for a goo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it is so hard writing descriptions for an alien that can communicate without any words at all

Flash sat by the edge of the bleachers, thankful that Eddie was caught up in the library again instead of trying to bug him during class. The front office was probably starting to get suspicious of the other man visiting every day, though. They had to come up with something else. Something less...weird.

Granted, everything surrounding Eddie Brock was usually pretty weird.

‘ _Turned the symbiote into a dog_ ,’ Flash mused, shaking his head slowly, eyes closed. Even in drug-trip standards, that was pushing it.

 **_It didn’t happen_** , the klyntar rumbled in his head, its voice subdued. **_Hallucination._ **

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s _really_ weird, though,” Flash countered with a frown.

**_Hm._ **

The veteran debated. He really should be paying attention, since his students were actively running around the track. He should be watching for injuries. Potential falls. Making sure they were actually _running_ , and not just speed-walking.

There were a couple of kids chatting as they walked, entirely ignoring the point of being on the track. He blew his whistle at them, a stern point enough to get them back into the exercise. Not without a very obvious roll of their eyes, though.

The symbiote was quiet in his head. Contemplative. Had been since this morning, when it had wanted to interrupt Eddie’s interpretation of the events leading up to meeting the Maker. His focus was drawn to the bristling, annoyed vibe originating somewhere around his kidneys.

That was the other thing—it seemed to have no issue projecting feelings to Flash, even though Eddie had specifically asked it to speak out loud. The insight was certainly helpful, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was bending the rules a little.

“You do realize you promised him that you wouldn’t leave him out of conversations, yeah?” Flash muttered.

 **_Didn’t leave him out_** , the symbiote maintained. **_Wasn’t talking to you._ **

“...Does sending feelings that explain his behavior not count?”

 **_Wasn’t talking_** , it responded, accompanied by the distinct impression of a shrug. **_So, no. Doesn’t count._ **

Flash suspected that Eddie would disagree with that sentiment. “Are you su—”

**_Yes._ **

The answer was short. Clipped. And still, the low-grade feeling of buzzing annoyance remained.

Sulking. It had to be sulking.

“You alright there, bud?” he asked quietly. He was too far from the track for any of the kids to think he was doing any more than mumbling to himself. He didn’t mind letting them think he was muttering about their grades.

**_Fine._ **

The bristling continued.

“Yeah, not buyin’ it,” Flash breathed, a short chuckle escaping him. “You wanna talk about it?”

**_No._ **

Flash was beginning to get an idea of why Eddie and the symbiote might have problems communicating, sometimes.

His friend picked up on the sentiment, though, and hissed in response. **_Can communicate fine!_ ** it protested. **_Don’t need words to communicate with each other!_ **

“And yet, you’re clearly annoyed, but refusing to talk to me about it,” the veteran pointed out, pretending to look at his clipboard. He’d have to write down some running times, but seeing as not one of the kids was running seriously, he figured he could fudge them a little. “C’mon, bud. Is it about Eddie?”

The bristling feeling abated some, only to be replaced by a heavy, surly mope. **_...Maybe._ ** It wriggled inside Flash, his gut almost as uncomfortable as the emotion the klyntar was giving off. **_Just think it’s funny that he’s so hung up on_ ** **words** **_, and yet he—_ **

It stopped, both its words and the feelings. Cut them all off in an instant.

Flash frowned, confused at the sudden change. “Uh, you okay?”

 **_Shouldn’t be mad at him_** , it responded flatly. Almost monotonously, like it had told him a dozen times. **_Eddie is hurting. Going through a lot._ **

Told _itself_ a dozen times, Flash realized.

“That doesn’t mean he’s got free license to hurt your feelings,” the veteran argued, grimacing. He still wasn’t sure exactly what Eddie had _done_ this morning,though. He hadn’t actively said anything to, or about the symbiote that Flash thought could be upsetting it. Nothing specific, at any rate. It had taken the dog stuff in stride, so that wasn’t the issue.

 **_...Left it out_** , his friend uttered. **_When he was telling you what happened._ **

“...Left _what_ out?” Flash fretted. Something important? Something that could figuratively slap Eddie back to his senses? If that was the case, then he was an idiot for not letting the symbiote interrupt—It should’ve told Eddie—

**_Told him I loved him._ **

Flash froze.

 ** _Before he passed out, before the Maker found us_** , the symbiote elaborated. **_Told Eddie I loved him, and he didn’t even_** **mention** **_it._**

Important. Extremely. And definitely not something Flash ever expected to actually hear.

He’d thought about it, of course. Suspected it, even. Why else would his friend keep going _back_ to Brock, after all the times they’d hurt each other? Why pick Eddie over Flash?

The answer sat low in his stomach, like lead. Dense, and poisonous.

“I, uh…” Flash drew his gaze back up to the track, reminding himself to at least _pretend_ he was doing his job. “You...You do? I mean, you did? You said...that?”

The bristling was back. **_Showed him so many times,_ ** it growled. **_Couldn’t get it through his head. Knew I was going to be too weak to communicate much after healing—was afraid I…_ **

Flash’s grip on the clipboard tightened, overwhelmed with shared feelings of _dread. Fear. Remorse._

**_Was afraid I couldn’t heal him._ **

So, in a last-ditch desperation, it stated its feelings point-blank.

And now, Eddie had willfully withheld that information from Flash.

As the emotions abated, Flash slumped slightly in his wheelchair. Fuck, this was a _lot._ “...Did he maybe just...not hear it?” the veteran suggested.

 **_No_** , his friend stated firmly. **_He heard. Remembers I said it._ **

So, why not tell Flash, then? Surely Eddie would rub that in his face—the fact that the symbiote loved _him_ and not—

Flash grimaced, banishing the thought, glancing at his watch for the time. Still enough before class ended to keep talking. And enough time before lunch, before Eddie would get back from the library.

The symbiote loved Eddie, and he didn’t acknowledge it.

The symbiote loved _Eddie_ , and he was still half-convinced this was all one big trick.

The symbiote loved _Eddie Brock_ , who kept _hurting it_.

...so what did that make Flash?

The veteran frowned harder, trying to keep that question from the symbiote’s notice. Its feelings for Flash weren’t the issue here. _Eddie_ was the issue here. As usual.

...It still hurt.

Flash took a deep breath, muttering, “We can pester him about it later,” he promised.

 **_Won’t believe me_** , the symbiote grumbled. **_All this time, and he still doesn’t believe me._ **

“Do you know why he won’t?” Flash asked, focusing on asking questions. Just keep asking questions. Not the one he wanted to ask, but ones that would keep him from thinking about the implications.

A scoff. **_Shit self-esteem._ **

“Eddie Brock has shit self-esteem?” Flash smirked bitterly, unable to help the next question from spilling out of his mouth. “We’re still talking about the same entitled, self-obsessed, self-congratulatory bastard, right?”

 **_Hides it_ ** , his friend clarified, though not without an irritated hiss at the insult. **_Plays at being a braggart, trying to trick everyone into thinking he knows what he’s doing—Including himself._ **

Well, Eddie certainly came off as convinced of his own self-righteousness. Even with his memories out of whack, he was still bulldozing his way down the path _he_ seemed to think was right. Stubborn, callous ass.

And the symbiote loved him.

Him, and not Flash.

The veteran shook his head, biting the inside of his cheeks, the pain of his teeth drawing his attention

 _Focus_ , Thompson _._

 **_Is something wrong?_ ** the symbiote asked.

Shit. Probably picked up on something in his mood, after all.

“Sure? Fine?” Flash tried.

Clearly, he didn’t try hard enough, as the symbiote sent the impression of suspicious, squinty eyes, without manifesting. **_You are becoming increasingly emotionally distressed,_ ** it observed. **_Why?_ **

The veteran let out a soft, but enduring noise of absolute reluctance. It was impossible to hide now. Not with the symbiote in his head.

Not to mention, he’d be a hypocrite, telling it to get its feelings out and then locking his own down the next second.

“I’m…” he started, and then stopped, frustrated, unsure exactly how to word it. It was almost like jealousy, but that would be ridiculous. Him? Jealous of _Eddie Brock?_ Absolutely not. “...You _love_ Eddie,” he ended up stating, as if that explained everything.

 **_Yes?_ **his friend chirped, confused.

Flash bit his bottom lip, unable to bring himself to say the words. ‘ _You love him,_ ’ he thought. _‘You love him, but not me._ ’

The thought was instantly met with shock. Then anger, red-hot and all-consuming, the veteran’s fingers clenching like claws.

 ** _What?!_** the symbiote demanded with a snarl. **_What is that supposed to mean?!_**

“Isn’t that what that means?!” Flash whispered harshly. “You went back to him, you’re going to all this trouble for him, you love _him_ , and I’m just—”

— ** _Being an_ ** **idiot,** **_Flash!_ **

“Am I?” the veteran hissed, burying his face in his hand. He didn’t need the kids seeing the outright _pissed_ expression on his face right now. “I mean it’s not like you ever told _me_ you loved me—”

Another growl cut him off, his thoughts utterly drowned out by the booming voice. **_This is what I mean!_ ** the symbiote nearly screamed. **_Both of you! So obsessed with stupid, clunky words!!_ **

Flash wasn’t sure what to say to that.

 ** _Don’t need to_** _ **tell**_ ** _you!_** it continued angrily. **_Can just_** **show** ** _you!_**

And then Flash could hardly see the track field, his mind flooded with a blend of images and thoughts and emotions, none of which were his own. Yet, they were familiar, even though he could hardly feel his own connection to the memories.

This was just the symbiote, remembering—Remembering the pair of them, together, bonded as Agent Venom. Pride and a sense of purpose fueled every fiber of them, bone-deep. The need, the _want_ to be closer, to rely on each other even more. The joy it felt, as they worked as a team. As it caught sight of Flash’s smile in the mirror. As they acted as one, as a _hero._ And then, the elation, the _rightness_ of it all, as an Agent of the Cosmos. The security, and the warmth it felt, coiled inside Flash. Its _partner_.

Then, the two of them, separate, but still counting on each other in the cold confines of space. A bond of trust so strong, even its own, horrific regression couldn’t break it. Trust, and happiness, beaming through their whole being, like a star that only burned brighter, never out.

All of those feelings, still there, still so _strong_ , even after it left him.

As Flash came back to reality, he felt a tear slip from his eyes. He blinked a few times, clearing his throat. “Uh, that—that was—” he stammered, finding his heart pounding in his chest.

 **_Is that enough proof?_ ** the klyntar snapped. **_Or do you still need your stupid words?_ **

Flash huffed a laugh as he rubbed at his eyes, hoping none of the kids had caught the total out-of-body experience he’d just been thrown through. He felt exhausted, now. Exhausted, but warm, his heart full-to-bursting. “No, I...That came through pretty clear, bud.”

Of course, he still kept calling it ‘bud.’ Even as the word left his mouth, it didn’t feel right. ‘Buddies’ wasn’t even _close_ to how it felt.

 _Darling_ was what Eddie called it. _Love._

Flash could see why.

 **_Good_** , the symbiote grunted from within him, satisfied, but still irate.

“...You’ve shown Eddie something like that?” Flash asked quietly.

 **_Yes!_ ** it stressed, exasperated. **_Dozens of times! All the time! Still hasn’t gotten it through his thick skull!_ **

Brock had felt what the symbiote did for all these years, and then it _stated_ it, and he _still—?_

Well, _now_ he understood why it was so frustrated.

“Sorry,” he chuckled weakly. Words weren’t enough. Words would never be enough. And yet, he had to use them. Stupid, clunky words, not at all natural to something like the symbiote. “Pretty sure it’s a human thing,” the veteran thought aloud. That’s what he was used to. What _Eddie_ was used to.

He checked his watch again, finding that he’d have to call the kids back to go change out of their gym clothes soon.

 **_Stupid concept. Don’t need them. Too stubborn to even believe what I show him, and then_ ** **you** **_do the same thing—_ **

“Well, we’re definitely gonna pester him now,” Flash assured the other.

**_Good! Needs to be pestered! Can’t believe he left it out—Stupidly important for his stupid words and stupid stubbornness and—!_ **

“...Sweetheart,” Flash tried, holding back a laugh. Still not enough to describe it properly, but close enough for now. The more immediate concern was getting the symbiote to calm back down before they _both_ bit Eddie’s head off.

Metaphorically, of course.

“Would getting something with chocolate in it help you out, here?” the veteran suggested.

The symbiote went quiet. Flash fretted that he’d annoyed it again, until it responded with a quiet, **_Chocolate frappe._ **

“Sure thing,” the veteran grinned. “We can stop somewhere on the way home.”

**_Extra chocolate syrup._ **

“All yours,” Flash promised. He brought his whistle to his lips, blowing it twice to grab the kids’ attention. “Wrap it up!” he called. “Time to go get changed!”

As the kid moved from the field and back into the building, Flash relaxed. ‘ _By the way,_ ’ he started, waiting for an inquisitive chitter from the symbiote before smiling warmly. ‘ _I love you, too._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this silly spite fic! If you wanna chat about Venom stuff, feel free to hit me up on Twitter/Tumblr @dyradoodles!


	8. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and the symbiote opt to pester Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's POV again, because A N G S T  
> Also I am so glad I wrote so much in advance because otherwise there would have been no chapter this week. Life, pls calm down.

Eddie held the door open as Flash wheeled himself into the coffee shop, a disapproving scowl on his face. “Here? Really?” he asked, not particularly caring if he was heard by the clientele sitting among the haphazardly-placed seating area. Most of them had headphones in, anyway, seemingly in spite of the pop music playing from the shop speakers.   
  
“Don’t be a snob,” Flash chastised. “It’s quick and it’s on the way home.”

“And it’s overpriced,” Eddie continued for him, following the younger man into line.

“We’re literally just here for a frappe. Calm down.”

“Why do we even need a frappe?” Eddie questioned, directing a suspicious look at the veteran.

“Our mutual...uh, friend?” Flash tried, though obviously dissatisfied with his own word choice, based on the immediate scowl on his face. “Anyway, I promised I’d get one—” They got up to the counter, and Flash placed the order with an easy grin. He turned to Eddie. “You want anything?”

“No,” the other man grunted, directing an annoyed glare at the various confectionaries in the display case.

Flash shrugged it off, handing the barista his card. “Suit yourself.”

The pair moved to the waiting area, and Eddie continued to grimace, still regarding the veteran with unease. “Why do you need a frappe?”

“I literally _just_ told you,” Flash huffed. “I promised.”

“No, I know. I meant _why_ —” Eddie started, fumbling when Flash looked up at him. “...Phenethylamine?” he questioned, instead.

“...Yes?” Flash responded, not entirely sure what the question was.

“It’s not…” Eddie’s brow furrowed. “It’s not low on phenethylamine, is it?”

Realization clicked in Flash’s head. “Oh, no,” he laughed, and Eddie relaxed, marginally. “No, just a rough day. Morning.” He pulled a face as he thought. “...Several weeks.”

Well, at least they didn’t have to worry about Venom needing to bite some brains any time soon. The older man crossed his arms over his chest, a nagging feeling pricking his heart. He shouldn’t care. Flash was handling it. Eddie specifically gave his other to Flash so that his other wouldn’t keep getting needlessly hurt.

And yet it...had a _rough day?_

“What happened?” Eddie asked quietly.

Flash, having been distracted by another order being called, turned back to Eddie in surprise. “Uh...I mean nothing really _happened_. We were just, y’know. Talking about some stuff—” The frappe came to the counter, and Flash cut himself off, moving away to retrieve it.

Eddie frowned at his shoes. Talking about stuff. Talking about _him_ , most likely, while he was at the library.

And whatever that ‘stuff’ had entailed, it had upset the symbiote.

Flash returned, holding a frappe that was easily more chocolate and whipped cream than anything else. “Alright, let’s get go—” he paused, a brief look of confusion on his face before shaking his head. He waved his other hand to Eddie, gesturing for him to move to a seat in the corner of the coffee shop. “Never mind. Let’s sit.”

“Why?” Eddie asked, even as he moved.

“Because I also promised to pester you, and it wants to do that now,” Flash shrugged, grinning. He pulled into the other side of the table, resting his elbows as he took a sip of the drink.

Eddie sat with a suspicious glare. “Pester me,” he repeated.

“Yep,” Flash smiled.

There was a shift around the cuff of his shirt. Then, a slight shake to the frappe.

The contents of the cup mysteriously began to lower.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. The symbiote, clearly, opting to camouflage and consume the drink itself as they talked.

“Apparently you, uh...You left something out, that it found pretty important,” Flash began, leaning forward to hide the curious cup from the rest of the shop’s clientele.

Eddie’s brow furrowed at the veteran. He hadn’t left anything important out. All the big details were in his description. If the symbiote thought differently then…

...did he forget something?

Did it _make_ him forget something?

The older man’s lip twitched as he tried to recall.

“Something it told you,” Flash prompted, watching Eddie struggle with a look of concern. “Before you passed out and woke up at the Maker’s place.”

Eddie grimaced. So nonspecific, like the veteran wanted _Eddie_ to come up with the answer.

Like he wanted to check if Eddie actually remembered, instead of the symbiote just blurting it out again. Instead of it telling him, when its words could be real or...

...Oh.

Flash was giving him the chance to try and remember the real events.

Eddie leaned back in the small chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed the frappe. That was...curiously considerate. Although, it was Flash Thompson he was talking about. It would be right for him to be considerate, even if it grated on Eddie’s nerves. He could remember what happened just before meeting the Maker—he’d told Flash as much. Fire. Pain. Nothing felt off about those particular memories.

At Flash’s waiting stare, Eddie clarified, “So, when I was dying?”

The veteran nodded, beginning to look uneasy himself.

Eddie could remember the near-death easily. So hurt he could barely move. Barely breathe. The symbiote trying its best to heal him, but unable to hide its fear that it couldn’t. Its voice, trying to soothe, even with the panic behind its words. Trying to reassure him, telling him it would be alright, that it—

“...You mean, when it told me it loved me,” Eddie concluded.

Flash looked relieved. “Yeah, that,” he confirmed. “Why’d you leave that out? It kinda…” He directed a pointed frown at the frappe, its contents already down to half. “It was upsetting, that you left it out, apparently.”

Eddie turned his gaze away. The words were burned into his brain. The shock that the symbiote had actually _said_ them was stronger than the fear of dying, in the moment. All those years, unspoken, even with him constantly calling it his own _love_.

He could say the words, but the symbiote only did when it thought he was dying for good.

Eddie eyed the frappe again, where a dollop of whipped cream was floating about an inch above the rest of the drink. The symbiote, watching him. Waiting for him to answer for his silence on the matter.

“It’s none of your business,” Eddie declared, directing an irritated scowl at Flash.

“Well, I’m the one bonded to it now, and it’s upset,” Flash countered, unimpressed. “So, yeah, actually. It _is_ my business.”

“With everything that happened _after_ that,” Eddie snarled, “those words were a little _difficult_ to believe.”

The frappe shook, drawing the attention of both men. Inside, the symbiote removed its camouflage, a little black head with lines of white, squinting eyes, as it glared at its former host.

Eddie met its glare for a second, but the sight of the symbiote inside the frappe made him smirk. Unable to help himself, he ultimately covered his face with a hand. “...It’s also difficult to take that look seriously with all that whipped cream on your head.”

The frappe hissed.

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Flash stated, pointedly avoiding looking at drink to maintain composure. “Like I said, leaving it out was pretty upsetting.”

Eddie breathed a sigh through his nose, frowning at Flash. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“You could apologize, for one,” the veteran suggested blandly.

The frappe rattled again.

“...Also, we got to talking about uh...Words,” Flash elaborated. “How it’s apparently really frustrating to talk to both of us. Apparently it’s been showing you for _years_ , but you still didn’t believe it?”

Eddie faltered at that. _Showing_ him. He could only think of the bond, of how right it felt. Of how being apart from his other felt like he was missing half his soul.

It still did, even with the symbiote sitting right across the table.

It was a feeling that, even as a man who based his career around words, he couldn’t describe. His body, his blood, his very bone could recall the feeling of completeness. Of warmth, and care, and the intensity of it all. The want to protect, and be protected, to hold and be held, all at once. They were whole, with each other, more so that he could say for any other relationship in his life. Devoted to each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, so long as they were bonded. Together. One.

Eddie’s fingers flinched, itching to reach out. To take the symbiote back. To be complete again.

It still _hurt_ to be separate, but the hurt of being together while not knowing what was truth and what was hallucination was infinitely worse.

To think that none of that feeling was real, that even the words were _corrupted_ and _tainted_ by memories he couldn’t even confirm yet…

Eddie’s fingers flinched back.

How could he even begin to explain that, without the symbiote’s ability to bridge thoughts and feelings and emotions? How the bond was so strong, so powerful and all-consuming, he could hardly believe it was real when they separated? How hearing the words, to _hear_ that he was loved, only to be informed by the Maker what kind of twisted, toxic love that was, was unlike any pain he’d ever felt?

“...I don’t know what to say,” Eddie muttered.

“Try,” Flash prompted.

“I _can’t_ ,” the other man stressed, a crack in his voice. “I don’t—I can’t even—” He floundered, burying his face in his hands, throat too tight to speak.

Flash watched Eddie, pensive.

The other man leaned over the table, hands running through his hair to rest on the back of his neck. He kept his head down. “...I’m sorry,” he uttered softly. “I’m sorry. It hurts too much.”

Flash breathed a heavy sigh, picking up the now-empty frappe. “...Okay. Conversation for later, maybe.” He waited, but Eddie didn’t move, still hunched and despairing. “It misses you, y’know,” Flash blurted out. 

“I know,” Eddie muttered, biting his tongue on the fact that he missed it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this silly spite fic! If you wanna chat about Venom stuff, feel free to hit me up on Twitter/Tumblr @dyradoodles!


	9. Agent Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash can't sleep. The symbiote doesn't sleep. They figure some exercise may help them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early post this weekend since my schedule's gonna be crazy. I'm hoping to go back to Saturday/Sundays next week, but oof.

Eddie was worryingly quiet on the way home, refusing to try and explain himself. Refusing to even engage with Flash, or the symbiote, too absorbed in whatever inner turmoil he’d inflicted on himself. Again.

So now, Flash was staring at his bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. Again.

 **_Stuck in his own head_** _,_ the symbiote explained, though Flash could feel its frustration seeping through their bond.

 _‘Stuck how?’_ Flash asked it.

 **_Cyclical thoughts_** _,_ came the response. **_Spiralling. Downward, specifically._ **

_‘So he’s just gonna think himself deeper into the hole, huh,’_ Flash frowned. There had to be something they could do to _break_ that cycle, but with Eddie’s lack of trust, that was far easier said than done.

 **_Wish he’d just listen_ ** _,_ the other mused, the words an angry mutter.

 _‘If he would just listen, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess in the first place,’_ the veteran shot back, casting a glance to his door. He could see the outline of it in perfect detail, thanks to the symbiote. Just on the other side was Eddie, curled up on the couch again, choosing to bury himself under a blanket rather than deal with whatever feelings were plaguing him. He’d probably stay like that until morning, whether he slept or not.

Meanwhile, every time Flash felt the barest hint of sleep incoming, his body took some more irritation as fuel for the fire. His eyes burned, but wouldn’t close, his own head too stuck on how infuriating Eddie’s lack of self-awareness was.

‘ _I’m not gonna get any sleep, like this…_ ’

 **_Could put you to sleep_** _,_ the symbiote suggested.

Flash debated. On the one hand, getting some rest would be wonderful. On the other, he sort of wanted to stay awake. Work through this, somehow. Do something to sort his _own_ feelings out. After all, he was still a little thrown that the symbiote loved him, too. Not just Eddie.

After everything they’d been through as Agent Venom, he felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner. He felt like Eddie was even _more_ of an idiot for knowing _damn well_ how the symbiote felt, and choosing to continue questioning it.

‘ _Thanks, sweetheart_ ,’ Flash responded, pleased with the preening he felt from the other at the new pet name. ‘ _But I think I gotta move, or something. Exercise. Get my mind off stuff or like...process it all.’_

 **_Could go out for a bit?_ ** it suggested instead.

Flash’s brow furrowed as he sat up. “Out?” he whispered.

 **_Out the window_** _,_ it clarified, forming its mass around his legs. It extended, creating familiar, dark boots, along with greaves and knee pads, both adorned with tiny spikes. **_Go out together, as Agent Venom._ **

Flash stared openly at the legs, lips parting. He had similar legs while using the Anti-Venom, of course, but those weren’t the same. Not like these. Not with the bond, with the other. He didn’t have to control these legs, with the symbiote acting with him. Acting as a _team_.

As his _partner_.

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Flash breathed, beaming.

It took seconds for Flash to jump out of bed. Even less to reach the window. The symbiote extended a couple extra tendrils, helping him pry it open. Then its form stretched, engulfing his whole body in black.

Then they were out, leaping into the open air.

Flash relished the rush of wind past his ears, shielded by symbiote as they dropped several stories. Then, with a flick of his wrist, they shot a line of webbing to the next building. It caught, and they swung, letting go just at the end of the arc’s upswing to hurl themselves over a rooftop.

The veteran whooped as he flipped, pausing only long enough to sling another web.

 ** _Better?_** the symbiote prompted in his head, very obvious in its smugness.

“The _best!_ ” Flash shouted, laughing. God, he’d _missed_ this. He flew over more buildings, enjoying each lift, each drop, each easy stretch of muscles as he performed moves he thought he’d never manage again. Once the Anti-Venom ran out, he’d figured that was it. That he was finished. Not now.

Across the bond, he could feel joy. Elation. The same, bright, wonderful nostalgia, doubled over his own.

“Think we both needed a break,” Agent Venom mused, neither Flash nor the symbiote much caring who said it.

They kept swinging, weaving through buildings, twisting their shared body around tight corners. Eventually, after what felt like only seconds, they pulled themselves to the top of a skyscraper, looking out over the city. White eye shields widened, taking in all the bright, colorful lights. Like stars brought down to Earth, each one serving its own unique purpose. Each one signifying the lives brimming all around them, the multitudes all connected, intersecting, crossing paths over and over.

Not so unlike the cosmos, just on a vastly smaller scale.

Agent Venom breathed deep, relaxing in the night air. Or, they tried to relax, until they realized they’d traveled much farther than they intended.

 **_Shouldn’t stray too far from Eddie_** _,_ the symbiote noted.

“Yeah, he did mention he’d kill me if I took you,” Flash sighed, shared eyes narrowing in annoyance. “But this isn’t _taking_ you, it’s just…” he trailed off, looking down at their gloved hands. Gloves he’d missed. Spiked bracers, lining his forearms, he’d missed. Full-blown body armor, wrapped around him with care, protecting every part of him.

He’d missed all of it so much.

But it was temporary.

The symbiote sensed the downswing in mood instantly. **_Flash?_ **

“I’m not keeping you,” Flash muttered. “We promised. Even though you love me and I…” he grit his teeth under the mask, fists clenching. “I love _you_ , but we’re not staying like this. We’re not staying together.”

The other was quiet.

“I still...I _get_ it, that you love him,” Flash bit out. “I do. And we promised that you’d go back to him, after he gets his shit together, but…”

He felt the suit squeeze around his torso. Not tightly. Not uncomfortably. Like an all-over hug, warm and gentle, before it slowly released. **_...I’m sorry, Flash._ **

“You missed me, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

**_Of course._ **

“But there’s no way Brock would let us stay like this,” Flash continued. “And you’ll go back to him.”

 **_...Yes_ ** _,_ it admitted.

Flash’s fists dropped to his sides. “...I don’t want to lose you again,” he muttered quietly. “Not...I don’t mean losing you to Brock. I just…” Their shared shoulders sagged. “...I want to be able to see you again.”

 **_Will figure something out_** _,_ the symbiote promised.

Flash snorted. “We can barely convince Brock that this isn’t all some big hallucination. You think you can convince him to stop by so you can _visit_ me?”

 **_Don’t know how, but we’ll manage_** _,_ it insisted, pushing a warm pulse of positivity at Flash. **_Agent Venom doesn’t give up._ **

At that, the veteran smiled, eye shields shifting. “...Yeah,” he huffed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They crouched, looking over the city again, pensive.

“So, what _do_ we do about Brock, then?” Flash questioned, resting his arms on symbiotic knees, the spikes in the knee pads retracting instantaneously. “His head’s all out of whack, and even if he wants me to listen more, I can’t really do that when he refuses to _talk._ ”

 **_Can’t help when he won’t talk_** _,_ the symbiote bemoaned. **_Know him best, but that only goes so far. Have an inkling of what he might be thinking, but can’t confirm it when we aren’t bonded._ **

“Welcome to the eternal struggle of humanity, sweetheart,” Flash smirked. “We’re not mind-readers.”

**_Unfortunately._ **

“Yes,” Flash chuckled. “Unfortunately.”

They angled their arm so they could lean their cheek into their hand, letting the other dangle. Traffic flowed smoothly below them, the cars looking as if they were the size of kids’ toys. The roads were far emptier than they would be during the day, but regardless, the vehicles moved through the lanes with ease. Each car, one by one, moving steadily in their intended direction.

“It’d be nice if there was some sort’ve tell,” Flash piped up. “Something that was a clear sign to Brock like, ‘hey, this memory is fake!’, maybe.”

 **_Didn’t see anything like that_** _,_ the symbiote sighed. **_The drugs made the hallucinations feel real to him. They were powerful._ **

“Even the dog bit?” Flash asked.

**_Especially the dog bit._ **

Their eye shields narrowed in irritation. They took up watching the cars again, put at ease by the continuous progress. Just straight lines, getting people to where they needed to be. Maybe some turns involved, or a curvy road somewhere, but largely straightforward.

Probably the total opposite of Eddie’s head, right now.

“Couldn’t the Maker have made this easier for us?” Flash wondered aloud. “Neither of us is a psychologist. This is a pain in the ass.”

The symbiote rumbled in unsaid agreement, frustrated.

Then, they spotted a lone car speeding down the road, weaving in and out of lanes with zero regard for the other drivers. It crossed over the divide into oncoming traffic, ducking back at the last second to avoid a head-on collision with a truck.

Ordinarily, Flash Thompson would think, ‘ _what a jackass,_ ’ and mind his own business. But, he wasn’t Flash Thompson right now.

Then the car mounted the sidewalk.

Agent Venom jumped from the building, diving to the city below. They hadn’t been able to see many pedestrians so high up, but this was New York. There were bound to be people walking around. People that would _definitely_ be in danger if they just continued to crouch on a rooftop and sulk.

Instead, they extended a web, swinging after the car. It took some doing, but they caught up soon enough, just as the vehicle swerved back into the road, nearly clipping a minivan in the process.

 **_Have to stop it!_ **the symbiote pointed out.

“Got any ideas?!” Flash countered, doing his best just to keep up.

**_The wheels, Flash!_ **

Agent Venom flung themselves forward, aiming their wrist at the car tires instead of the next building. They fired a burst of webbing, managing to hit the back wheel.

The tire screeched with the sudden loss of momentum, bound by webs, and the car careened to the side, crashing into a lamppost.

Landing in the street, Agent Venom approached the wrecked vehicle at a run. Further down the road, they could see a group of people exiting a club, their attention captured by the sudden noise. Ignoring them, Agent Venom jumped over the back of the car, to the driver-side door. Leaning down, they could see the airbag had deployed. A middle-aged man sat in the seat.

They ripped the door open. “ **You alright in there?** ”

The man sputtered, wavering as he came to. He leered at Agent Venom. “Whu—Whaddya want? The fuck? What happened?”

“ **You crashed** ,” Agent Venom responded, claiming absolutely no responsibility. “ **You were driving pretty recklessly back there, bud.** ” Gingerly, they helped extricate the man from the car, taking stock of any potential injuries. A bruise starting to form on the back of his balding head that he should get checked out, but otherwise fine.

“Ffffuck you,” the man slurred, attempting to push them away. “I don’t nee—” He wobbled, stumbling over his own feet. “I don’t need your help, you, you…” He peered at the symbol on their chest for a moment, before immediately backing away. “You! You’re Venom! Holy shit, you’re Venom!”

“ **And you are** **_very_ ** **drunk** ,” Agent Venom observed, unimpressed. “ **We should get you to a hospital—** ”

“No! No, stay away from me!” the man screamed, getting his feet under him and darting down the road. “Don’t eat me!”

Agent Venom watched as the man barreled away, into the group of club-goers, clinging onto another man and pointing anxiously back at the vigilante.

 **_Well, they’ll probably make sure he gets to a hospital_** _,_ the symbiote deduced, as people began pulling out cell phones. Some aimed at them, some at the car. At least one person appeared to be calling someone. **_We should go._ **

Flash let his gaze linger on the wrecked car for a moment. It was, largely, intact. The front was scrunched up around the streetlight, but the streetlight itself had only bent slightly. The back was untouched, the symbiotic webbing already vanished off the wheel.

Not bad at all, considering what could have been.

Still, Flash’s fists clenched. An idiot, was what that driver was. Not just a jackass, but a stupd, drunken, _idiot—_

 **_Flash_** _,_ the symbiote urged.

The veteran shook his head, and then turned, extending a web to leave.

It didn’t take them long to get back, moving through side streets and over rooftops to reach Flash’s apartment. By the time the open window came into view, Flash felt a little better.

They’d stopped the guy. Prevented a worse accident. Hopefully the man’s fear of Venom would make him turn over a new leaf, or something. They did _good_.

Together.

As they snuck back in the window, Flash sighed, symbiote withdrawing to just his legs. “Good work,” he mumbled.

 **_Yes_** _,_ the other preened.

The veteran smiled softly, and then looked at his bedroom door. Eddie was beyond it, still sleeping. Or sulking. Whichever. And they still didn’t have a plan of attack for how he could figure out which memory was which, aside from talking out every single one of them. If he even wanted to talk.

One thing was certain **—** all that exercise had made them thirsty. The cup on his bedside table sat empty, which meant he needed to get to the kitchen.

And bypass Eddie, on the couch.

“Might as well check on him,” Flash muttered, grabbing the glass. Reluctantly, he sat in his wheelchair, symbiotic legs withdrawing completely. He balanced the glass between his thighs, rolling to the door.

The apartment was brighter than he’d expected as they entered the living room, but he chalked it up to the symbiote’s effect on his eyes. Flash approached the couch, coming up just to the side of it, and leaning forward.

The blanket lay crumpled on the cushions, no Eddie in sight.

Flash’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 **_Flash—_ ** came the symbiote’s voice, suddenly high and fearful.

“What?” Flash asked, turning around. The bathroom door was open, the light off. Nobody in there.

**_Eddie—He’s—!_ **

The veteran felt his stomach drop with dread, his head whipping around to look at the front door of the apartment.

It was open.

Eddie was gone.


	10. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Venom does some more running around, but this time because where the HELL is Eddie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my buffer back!! So updates should be fine for a while yet.

Flash stood from his wheelchair on symbiotic legs, drinking glass clattering to the floor. “Shit,” he breathed, gawking at the open door.

The dim hallway light was filtering into the apartment—That was why it was brighter inside. Not the symbiote. It was brighter because Eddie had left the door open when—

“ _Shit!_ ”

The symbiote pooled over Flash’s skin in an instant, suiting them up as Agent Venom again as they bolted out the door. The hall was empty, no sign of the other man. No other open doors, either. All quiet. No indication that Eddie Brock had come running down this exact hallway just moments—was it moments? Minutes? An hour? How long were they gone? When did he leave?

Did he take the elevator? The stairs?

Agent Venom opted for the window, symbiote tendrils heaving it open to let them look outside.

No one in the street, either. They hadn’t just missed him. He must have left a while ago.

They jumped outside anyway, slinging a web to get them to the roof of the condo across the street. On landing, they darted from edge to edge, looking for some sign, _any_ sign of Eddie.

“Where the hell did he go?!” Flash shouted.

 **_Can sense him_** _,_ the symbiote responded, only a tiny ounce of relief in its panicked voice. **_He isn't close._ **

Agent Venom reoriented themselves, facing the direction where the connection with Eddie felt the strongest. A pull, like something tugging on their chest, urging them to find the man at the other end.

**_That way!_ **

They ran, jumping over side-streets, using webbing to propel themselves up the high-rises.

 **_Shouldn’t have gone out_** _,_ the symbiote scolded inwardly. **_Shouldn’t have left. Eddie might not have—_ **

“It’s not your fault this jackass decided to go AWOL in the middle of the night!” Flash countered with an angry yell. Their latest line brought them to the side of an office building, and he grunted as armored boots crashed against the concrete. Vaguely, he was glad they hadn’t hit the window. Might’ve broken it.

Though, he might break something of Eddie’s when they found him.

**_Why did he leave? He came home with us! Don’t understand!_ **

“Trust me, that’s the _first_ thing we’re gonna ask,” Flash promised, starting to climb up the side of the building.

The symbiote took no comfort from the sentiment. It squirmed around Flash, distressed and keening. **_What did I...What did we do?_ **

Flash flinched at the pain from the other, bringing a hand to his chest as they looked out over the city. “It’s okay,” he tried to soothe. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? We’re gonna find him, and I’m gonna punch him, and we’ll figure this out.”

**_Why would he leave me? Why like this?_ **

The veteran shut his eyes, the heartache bleeding from the symbiote almost overwhelming him. “I…” he trailed off.

What could he possibly say?

The symbiote was right. Sure, Eddie had been upset when they’d gone back to the apartment, but that was because the hallucinations were still messing with his head. He was hurting, but not so hurt that he’d refused to be near them. He’d come _back_ with them, without protest.

So why now? Why leave in the middle of the night like this? What in the world would make him abandon his other, after all the assurances that he was trying to figure all this shit out?

_Bastard._

**_Flash! Over there!_ **

The veteran’s heart leapt in his chest, and he looked up, following the symbiote’s direction. It was another rooftop, further down, and there was someone standing at the edge. Someone looking up at them.

It wasn’t Eddie.

Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in that red and blue skin-tight suit.

“ **Spider-Man?** ” Agent Venom questioned.

Spider-Man, seemingly miffed, if the hands on his hips were any indication, looked briefly behind himself. Then, up at Agent Venom again. He waved.

Slowly, awkwardly, they waved back.

Instantly, Spider-Man was pointing at them, and then signalling for them to come to him.

 **_Has he seen Eddie?_ ** the symbiote wondered, worry and reluctance preventing them from heading over immediately.

“Maybe,” Flash sighed, as the signalling grew more insistent. “Either that, or I’m in trouble.”

They dropped, making their way over.

**_Why would you be in trouble?_ **

‘ _You know he doesn’t like you,’_ Flash answered mentally, cautious as they landed. ‘ _If he doesn’t know about Eddie, then he’s gonna be mad that I’m suddenly going around as—_ ’

“Agent Venom,” Spider-Man greeted, eye-shields half closed in an unimpressed stare. “I thought that was you.”

“ **Spider-Man** ,” they acknowledged, both symbiote and host uneasy. “ **Did you, uh...Did you need something?** ”

The superhero crossed his arms over his chest. “Seriously? When were you gonna tell me about this? Or were you gonna tell me at all?”

Agent Venom’s shoulders drooped. “ **It’s...It’s a long story.** ”

“Do I really have to remind you that you nearly _died_ not that long ago?” Spider-Man pressed. “I thought you were taking the lack of Anti-Venom as a chance to retire, not... _”_ he gestured lamely at Agent Venom as a whole. “...doing _this_ again.”

Flash had the distinct impression that noting he had died once before, with a brief stint in Hell no less, would not go over well. “...Stuff happened,” he answered, in his own voice.

Spider-Man eyed the vigilante for a moment. “ _Riiight,_ ” he drawled. “Would _Eddie Brock_ have anything to do with this ‘stuff’ you’re involved in?”

At that, Agent Venom perked up. “ **You’ve seen him?!** ”

The superhero hung his head with a sigh. “I thought so,” he mumbled, irritated. “Guess he was telling the truth for once.” Then, with a wave to Agent Venom, he began to walk toward the other side of the roof. “C’mon, he’s over this way.”

‘ _That was lucky,’_ Flash mentally cheered.

 **_Maybe_** _,_ the symbiote rumbled, still anxious. **_Maybe not, if Spider-Man found him first._ **

They followed Spider-Man over several more rooftops, until they reached a towering high-rise. The superhero continued unabated, swinging his way upward and wall-crawling the rest of the way. Agent Venom craned their neck back, unable to get a look at the top.

‘ _Why the hell would he be up there?’_

Once they caught up with their own webbing, Agent Venom eyed Spider-Man curiously. “ **How’d you find him?** ”

“Oh, y’know,” the superhero started with a blasé wave of his hand, “Out and about patrolling, happened to stumble upon a _very_ pissed off Brock running around the neighborhood, shouting about his symbiote. The usual.”

The information took them by surprise. “ **Shouting what?** ”

“Something like, ‘that bastard Flash Thompson stealing _my_ symbiote!’” Spider-Man mimicked, dropping his voice with a growl and shaking his fist. He turned to Agent Venom and shrugged with one shoulder before continuing the climb. “Like I said, same-old, same-old.”

‘ _Stealing?’_

**_His symbiote?_ **

Agent Venom paused, blinking.

Eddie was out running around, claiming Flash stole the symbiote. _His_ symbiote, specifically. So he hadn’t abandoned it—not if he was still calling it his. But, for him to be running around shouting about it...

He would have to know they’d gone out.

Flash felt his insides grow cold. ‘ _Oh no. Oh no. Oh shit.’_

 **_Found out we left_** _,_ the symbiote fretted. **_Found out we left and thinks we—_ **

The _one_ thing Eddie had _explicitly_ told him not to do. No stealing the symbiote. And now, he thought Flash had done exactly that.

‘ _He’s gonna kill me.’_

 **_Won’t let him!_ ** his partner reassured. **_Won’t let him, Flash—We need to talk to him—!_ **

Agent Venom charged up the rest of the climb, bypassing a very confused Spider-Man along the way. They vaulted over the lip of the roof, landing with a roll, and looked up.

There was Eddie, bound and gagged with webs, stuck to the roof access door.

If he’d looked angry before locking eyes with Agent Venom, he was absolutely _livid_ now.

The vigilante stood slowly, hands out, uselessly, like they could possibly pacify the other man so easily. “ **Eddie—** ”

Eddie strained against the door, looking very much like he wanted to rip them to shreds.

“So, you guys wanna explain what’s going on?” Spider-Man asked from behind them. He stayed away from Eddie, opting to keep closer to Flash, instead.

“ **Why is he up here?** ” Agent Venom countered, narrowing their eyes at the superhero. “ **Why did you gag him?** ”

Spider-Man gestured to Eddie, straining and shouting muffled by the webs, with both hands. “I mean _look_ at him! I’ve dealt with him when he’s being belligerent, but man, once you get him talking he never shuts up. I figured if I kept him up here for a bit he’d stay outta trouble.”

 **_It’s cold up here_** _,_ the symbiote pointed out.

Flash couldn’t feel it, thanks to the suit, but he was certain Eddie could. Jeans and a t-shirt, all the way up here. If he looked closer, beyond the angry tugging and straining, he could see goosebumps along the other man’s arms.

Although, Eddie might be too angry to notice the cold.

Agent Venom glared at Spider-Man. “ **We’re taking him.** ”

“Not before you tell me what this is about,” the superhero countered. “Spill.”

They clenched their fists. They had to get Eddie _out_ of here. They needed to explain that they—

—that _Flash_ hadn’t stolen the symbiote.

The veteran sighed, symbiote retreating from his face. Short hair blew wildly in the wind, and he inwardly cursed at just how chilly the air was, his ears instantly feeling like they would freeze after too long. “They’re staying with me,” he explained, “Some shit went down with a guy called the Maker, and the symbiote brought Eddie to me, to ask for my help.”

Spider-Man eyed him, his mask unreadable. “Your _help,_ ” he repeated.

“The Maker drugged them, and it messed with Eddie’s head,” Flash continued. “A lot.”

“Right, because he didn’t have enough issues,” Spider-Man snorted.

“They’re staying with me until he can sort through it all,” the veteran persisted, even if he agreed with the sentiment. “It’s temporary.”

Spider-Man looked over to Eddie. “So, what, you take the symbiote and leave after a couple weeks?”

Eddie glowered at the superhero, blue eyes burning.

“A nod or something would work, y’know,” Spider-Man prompted.

Eddie only continued to glare.

The superhero sighed, canting his head as he turned back to Agent Venom. “So, he’s your responsibility.”

“Yes.”

“And the symbiote?” Spider-Man’s eye-shields narrowed.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” Flash assured him. “I’ve got this, okay? I’m handling it.”

After an annoyed grumble, Spider-Man relented. “Alright _fine,_ but keep a better eye on him.” He gestured to Eddie with a hand, inviting Agent Venom to take him. “He’s all yours, provided he doesn’t end up snapping. Then he’ll have to answer to me. As _usual_.”

They hesitated at that, but strode over to Eddie, the symbiote reforming the mask over Flash’s face. Grabbing at the webbing between the man’s shirt and the door, they clawed it apart.

Eddie stumbled forward, away from them, straightening and looking wholly ungrateful for the rescue. He pointed to Agent Venom, and then to the edge of the roof.

“ **...You want us to leave?** ” they guessed. At Eddie’s affirming grunt, they grew concerned. “ **We aren’t leaving without you. We need to talk.** ”

Eddie rolled his eyes, exasperated, pointing to himself and then the roof access door.

“ **Oh** ,” they realized. “ **You’re gonna walk down?** ”

A nod.

“You should be able to talk again in an hour or so,” Spider-Man commented glibly.

Eddie glared at the superhero, pointing to him next.

“Me?” Spider-Man asked, holding a hand to his chest.

Eddie extended his middle finger.

Spider-Man hummed. “...Yeah, in retrospect I probably should’ve seen that coming.” He shook his head, pointing right back to the older man. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, too, not just Agent Venom. You’re lucky I’m busy tonight. Otherwise I’d deal with you _now._ ” Ignoring Eddie’s answering growl, the superhero turned, hopping up on the landing. He paused, looking over his shoulder at Agent Venom. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Flash. We’ll talk later.”

Agent Venom stared after the superhero as Spider-Man swung away, before startling at the sound of metal creaking. They turned just in time to see Eddie storming through the roof access door, only to slam it shut with a loud, echoing _bang_.

Flash grimaced underneath the mask, now more certain than ever that he had absolutely _no_ idea what he was doing, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this silly spite fic! If you wanna chat about Venom stuff, feel free to hit me up on Twitter/Tumblr @dyradoodles!


	11. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and the symbiote try to explain where they were, and Eddie is having NONE OF IT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda sad, whoops, have some angst

Spider-Man had been right about one thing: Once the webbing wore off and Eddie could start talking again, he wouldn’t _stop._

“You fucking _bastard!_ ” he spat at Flash. “You goddamn—!”

“Brock, calm _down!_ ” Flash shot back. “Let us explain!”

“Explain _what?!_ ” the other man roared. “What is there to fucking explain?! I look in your room and you’re gone, and then you show up as _Agent Venom!_ I think it’s pretty _fucking clear_ what you did!”

“ **Eddie, don’t blame Flash—Our idea to go out for a bit—** ”

“ _Your_ idea?!” Eddie growled at the symbiote.

“We were coming _back,_ ” Flash stressed. “We weren’t _leaving,_ we just went out for a break—”

“A break,” the other man repeated with a laugh. “Right. Sure. A break.” His face darkened. “A break from _me_ , you mean. A break from Eddie Brock’s eternal bullshit, which I’m sure you both _sorely_ needed.”

Flash bit his tongue on how much he wanted to say _yes_.

Yes, they’d needed a break from him. From all of this. How were they supposed to help him if they hardly had time to _think?_

Eddie, however, scoffed at the veteran’s silence. “Yeah,” he started, his voice strained behind a bitter smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“ _Brock_ ,” Flash stressed, massaging his temples with a hand, as the source of his headache stood not four feet in front of him. “It’s not—I know what you _think_ this is,” he gestured to the symbiote branching off his forearm. “We aren’t just...We’re not abandoning you to go be Agent Venom again, okay?”

“And yet, that’s exactly what you did,” Eddie snarled back.

“For like, an hour!” Flash argued. “Tops! For exercise and to think of how to _help_ you!” The veteran ran his hands down his face, willing himself to breathe. Calm down. Eddie was upset, and the symbiote was upset, and he needed to stay _calm_ if they were gonna get through this. “It’s just—I’m not a shrink, alright? This shit is hard!”

“Oh, it’s hard?” Eddie questioned with another disbelieving laugh. “I hadn’t realized! I’m so _sorry_ , Thompson.” He scowled, growling the rest out through gritted teeth. “I never knew how fucking _hard_ this must be for _you._ ”

God dammit, that was a fuck up.

Flash groaned, long and low. “I don’t mean I’m having a harder time than you,” he acknowledged. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.”

“ **Trying to help** **_you,_ ** **Eddie,** ” the symbiote started, wide, worried eyes on its former host. “ **We don’t know** **_how_** **. Trying to figure that out, so we can—** ”

“So you can _what?_ ” Eddie interrupted, arms tight across his chest, “It was _your—_ What do you even _want_ from me anymore?”

“ **To be together!** ” the other answered, affronted. “ **To be one again—** ** _Love_** **you, Eddie, I—** ”

“Do you?” Eddie questioned openly, eyes pained.

Flash felt his blood run cold. He didn't meant that. He couldn't possibly. “Brock, don’t you fucking start,” Flash warned.

“What?” Eddie huffed, gesturing weakly at his other. “Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?” He seemed to deflate, then, voice shaking, but not from anger. “You say you love me, and yet you pull shit like _this_.”

The symbiote shrank down, flinching.  
  
“Brock!” Flash growled.

“How am I supposed to know it’s real?” Eddie asked, dropping onto the edge of Flash’s couch, still staring at the symbiote. “How am I supposed to believe you when you keep _lying_ and _hiding shit_ from me?” His face screwed up in a pained grimace. “How the fuck am I supposed to believe you when you decide to go run off with _him?_ ”

“ **Not what happened, Eddie!** ” the other protested, leaning forward. “ **You’re not listening! Love you, so much, but you aren’t—** ”

“You loved me,” Eddie’s voice cracked. “You said you _loved_ me, that you always did, and I could _feel_ it, but it was all just a fucking _lie_ , wasn’t it?” When the symbiote didn’t respond, too stunned to speak, he buried his head in his hands, shouting, “The entire bond was a lie _, wasn’t it?!_ ”

The aftermath of the hallucinations wasn’t just _messing_ with Eddie, Flash realized, staring open-mouthed as the other man let out a wounded, heaving sob.

It was _breaking_ him.

He hadn’t realized just how deep the hurt went. How much worse the issue really was. Flash lifted a hand, reaching toward the other man. “Brock—”

“Shut up,” Eddie snapped. “Shut the _fuck_ up, Thompson.”

Flash hesitated. Eddie hated him. Always had. Probably hated him even more now, if that was possible.

Frankly, he hadn’t wanted to help Eddie, at the start. They had a mutual distaste for each other. The other man wouldn’t rely on anyone but the symbiote, so the likelihood he would even truly accept Flash’s help was slim to none. Practically destined to fail.

If Flash didn’t help, though, then Eddie would become Spider-Man’s problem. Spider-Man, who held no empathy for the man currently crying on Flash’s couch. Who would probably rather leave Eddie to his own devices, in California, alone.

Because, without the symbiote, who else did Eddie even have? Liz Allen? Whoever the hell Dr. Steven was? They hadn’t sounded close. More like begrudging allies, than actual friends.

No friends. No support system. At least, none that Flash knew of.

And now he thought the symbiote had never loved him.

“...Eddie,” Flash tried again, his voice softer as he inched his chair closer. When the other man didn’t acknowledge him, the veteran leaned forward. “Listen. I know you don’t want to hear me talk, but _please,_ just listen for a bit?”

Eddie shook his head, keeping it lowered.

The veteran glanced to the symbiote, who sent a pulsing urgency along their own bond. Flash pushed on, figuring if Eddie didn’t want to listen, he’d at least _hear_ the words, whether he liked it or not. “I’m sorry, okay? We both are. We didn’t think. We…” He bit his lip, looking down to his lap in shame. “...We didn’t consider how you’d feel if you came into my room and saw we’d left.”

“No _shit,_ ” Eddie choked out.

A verbal response was a good sign. He was listening after all. Buoyed by that knowledge, Flash asked, “Why, uh...Why _did_ you come to my room, anyway?” He hoped it wasn’t that Eddie had finally decided to murder him. _God_ , he hoped.

“...wanted to talk,” Eddie managed, his voice too high. Pained and aching and far too _small_ for such a hulking, powerhouse of a man.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Flash whispered. Eddie had wanted to talk. He’d _finally_ wanted to talk, after hours of refusal, only to find that Flash and the symbiote had left. Left _him_ , specifically, if they went with his assumptions.

No wonder he’d bolted.

“I’m sorry,” Flash said again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—”

“ **We** ,” the symbiote corrected, its form small and hunched, almost mirroring Eddie. “ **We didn’t think.** **_We’re_ ** **sorry.** ”

“We came back and then _you_ were gone,” Flash muttered. “If...We would’ve come back. If you waited, we—”

“I went _looking_ for you,” Eddie admitted miserably. “I tried to find you. You just…” his voice broke again, his shoulders shaking. “You just... _left_ me. You left me for your damn precious golden boy.”

The veteran grimaced, unsure what the other man meant by that, until he realized Eddie was talking to the symbiote. “It isn’t leaving you,” Flash affirmed. “We even talked about that, tonight. Once you get your memories in order, it’s going right back to you.” He felt a wave of fearful hesitance that wasn’t his own, and he turned to the symbiote in askance.

“ **...if you still want us, Eddie** ,” it added quietly.

Flash’s eyes widened.

“That’s the worst part,” Eddie laughed, though it rang hollow. “That’s the worst fucking part of all this. After everything you’ve done, I still…” He managed to lift his head, some, to look at the symbiote. His cheeks were streaked with tears, and his eyes the brightest blue Flash had ever seen. So bright, so clear, but so, so full of _hurt._ “After everything, I still _love_ you.”

The symbiote let out a whine, and Flash could feel how much it wanted to reach, to touch its former host. Wrap Eddie up and _hold_ him, to soothe the pain away.

Going to him now, though, would just make it hurt more.

“ **Love you, too,** ” it said again, low and soft. “ **Know you love us. Want to** **_earn_ ** **that love.** ”

Eddie’s face screwed up like he’d cry again, and he lowered his head.

“...I honestly don’t know how to convince you,” Flash sighed, leaning back in his chair again. He tried to review what he knew of the man in front of him. What he’d learned. Eddie wanted to feel listened to. He wanted acknowledgement. Flash could _try_ some of that, but whether that would be enough to get Eddie out of this particular spiral, when it ran so deep…

Regardless, he was pretty sure he was starting to run out of options.

“...This is hard for you,” Flash tried. “I know it is. It’s... _stupidly_ hard, but we’re _trying_ , okay? You have to believe that.” He placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, heartened by the fact that Eddie didn’t immediately recoil. “We’re trying. We’re still here, and we aren’t going anywhere until we figure out how to help you.”

Eddie’s shoulders shook, his hands coming up to run his fingers over his hair again.

“ **Not leaving you, Eddie,** ” the symbiote added. “ **Won’t abandon you.** ”

Flash felt distinctly like they were talking in circles now, but the man in front of him was getting borderline impossible. Eddie wanted the symbiote, but he hated the symbiote, but he loved it, but he didn’t want anything to do with it—

The veteran grimaced. If this was how Eddie had been feeling since the drugs wore off, then no wonder he was so irascible. Flash could barely follow it. Eddie had to _live_ through it.

“My head hurts,” Eddie said, his voice hushed.

“I bet,” Flash responded with a sympathetic sigh. He glanced to the crumpled blanket next to Eddie, and then patted the man’s shoulder. “Do you...Wanna try to get some sleep?” he suggested.

Eddie shook his head.

“ **Need to rest, Eddie,** ” the symbiote joined in, taking Flash’s cue and running with it. It clutched the blanket with a tendril, holding it close to its former host. “ **It has been a long night.** ”

Eddie grunted quietly.

Flash frowned at the klyntar, unsure what that one meant. When no translation was forthcoming, he gently pushed Eddie toward the other end of the couch. “C’mon, man. You…” he trailed off, at a loss for what to say, though it was more due to his own lack of confidence in what he was doing. Eddie had stopped shouting at them, at least. Maybe more acknowledgement _would_ work. “You’ve had a rough night. Let’s try again in the morning, huh?”

Eddie eventually, finally, curled up on the couch, one arm still covering his eyes so he could grasp at his hair. As the symbiote carefully tucked the blanket around him, he muttered, “Don’t leave...”

Flash wheeled over to the other side of the couch, closer to Eddie’s head. “Not going anywhere,” he promised.

“ **Can stay in the living room with you** ,” the symbiote added.

Another weak gunt. Almost a short whine.

 **_Eddie is exhausted_** , the symbiote’s voice suddenly rumbled in Flash’s mind.

‘ _Me too,_ ’ Flash responded, slumping in his chair.

The other man shifted slightly, the hand not clutching his head laying off the edge of the couch, fingers splayed, like he was reaching for something.

Slowly, cautiously, the symbiote extended a tendril from Flash. It curled around Eddie’s arm, into the spaces between the man’s fingers, squeezing gently.

Eddie seemed to relax, hand going limp, covered in black.

Flash watched Eddie lying there, just breathing, the blanket rising and falling softly with his chest. The veteran hoped he’d fall asleep, soon enough. Eddie needed it. Arguably, so did Flash, but he knew for a fact he was unlikely to even doze at this point.

The apartment was dark again, still a while yet before dawn.

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” Flash muttered, unsure if Eddie could even hear him.


	12. Resentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie wakes up after a harrowing night of running around screaming. He doesn't feel so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ANGST CONTINUES

Eddie woke up reluctantly, bleary-eyed, only vaguely registering the sight of the coffee table in front of him. Slowly, he began to notice other things, like the blanket that somehow hadn’t been thrown off during the night. How cold he was, in spite of it. The soreness in his neck, having slept on a couch for multiple nights in a row.

The symbiote tendril wrapped delicately around his hand.

He remained still as could be, though he was certain his other had already picked up on the fact that he was awake. Like this, though, unbonded, he could contemplate the black sheen along his arm without the symbiote picking up on his thoughts. Thoughts that, at best, were a scattered, painful mess.

He wanted the symbiote to stay where it was, not daring to move his hand, for fear that it would withdraw.

He wanted it off, to get away and stay away from him, for fear that it was only using him because it knew just how deeply his desperation ran.

That’s what it was, he realized. Desperation. Wanting, so badly, to be loved. For its words and promises to be real. To be one again. For everything to be as it was.

For everything to be _better_.

All too soon, Eddie looked up, spotting Flash Thompson sitting nearby. There were deep circles under the veteran’s eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all, and his gaze stayed on his phone.

Flash Thompson. Agent Venom. Guardian of the Galaxy. Agent of the Cosmos.

Golden boy.

Eddie wasn’t sure if he twitched, or if Flash had picked up on the anger radiating from the couch, but either way, his cover of still being asleep was blown.

Flash looked up from his phone, glancing at Eddie, and then staring, a tired slump to his shoulders. “You’re awake.”

Eddie stared back, his voice raw and scratchy when he tried to speak. “Yeah.”

The veteran awkwardly looked at the tendril connecting the two men, quiet for the moment. Ultimately, though, he looked back to Eddie. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to be in Flash’s apartment. He didn’t want to be near Flash at all. He almost wished the veteran really _was_ dead, and that he was back in California.

Almost wished, because at least with Flash alive, there was a chance the symbiote still—

—the symbiote, who had run off with Flash last night, instead of staying for him—

“Like shit,” Eddie decided, pulling his hand to his chest, trying not to feel anything as the tendril gently slipped from his skin, retreating. What little warmth his other had been providing vanished, and Eddie found himself left even colder than before, like his body had forgotten how to make itself warm again.

“Thought you might,” Flash uttered quietly, putting his phone in his lap and rubbing his eyes. He blinked them, hard, before wheeling himself toward the kitchen. “You want any breakfast?”

“No,” Eddie stated, stomach too nauseous to feel any hunger.

“Okay,” Flash responded.

Eddie remained on the couch as Flash started pulling out dishes for his own meal. The older man stayed quiet, listening to the occasional clatter of dishware on counters, of cereal clinking against a porcelain bowl. He willed himself to stay present. To focus.

He couldn’t manage that, last night.

The memory came back, unbidden, of slowly opening Flash’s bedroom door, half-hoping the veteran would be asleep so he wouldn’t have to talk after all. Of finding that, not only was the veteran not asleep, he was gone, along with his symbiote. Window open. Curtains, blowing gently in the night air, peaceful, despite the mounting panic in Eddie’s chest.

Feet pounding on the pavement as he ran, eyes on the skyline, looking for black on black—Agent Venom against a starless sky. An impossible task, with his weaker, human eyes, lacking the enhancements of his other. Lacking his other, completely.

The fear, the pain, the _ache_ of the knowledge that it finally chose, even as he shouted explicatives at Flash Thompson. That it chose, and it hadn’t chosen Eddie.

That it chose to leave him.

Eddie blinked back blurry vision as the sound of a glass cup hitting the coffee table registered in his ears. A glass full of water was placed in front of him. Next to it, sat Flash, slowly taking a bite of his breakfast.

Flash caught Eddie staring at him, and indicated the glass with his spoon. “You should drink some water, at least,” he pointed out.

Eddie grunted.

“ **Please, Eddie,** ” the symbiote snaked its way down Flash’s arm, eyes drooping as it watched him.

‘ _Pity,_ ’ Eddie decided. ‘ _It’s pitying me._ ’

Its poor, broken host. Of course it would pick Flash. Of course it would pick the hero. The one with friends. The one who knew exactly which damn reality he lived in.

“So, which reality is winning today?” Flash asked suddenly.

The question was so entwined with Eddie’s thoughts, that for a moment he thought Flash had read his mind. “What?” he breathed, gawking at the other man.

“This feels real, and the hallucinations from the drugs felt real, right?” Flash clarified, leaning in his chair in a way that couldn’t be good for his back. “I figured it’s probably better for us to know which one you’re leaning toward from day-to-day.”

“I…” Eddie was at a loss for words, incredulous. “I don’t know.”

“...Listen, we fucked up, last night,” Flash continued, holding his bowl idly in his lap. He frowned at it, rather than look at Eddie. “Real bad. It was the symbiote’s idea to go out, but it’s not like I didn’t go along with it.” He hung his head a bit then, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I wanted to be Agent Venom again. I admit it. But that was…”

Eddie could only watch as Flash met his gaze again, looking so tired, and so, so guilty.

“I was being selfish,” Flash stated, “And I wasn’t fair to you—I didn’t even _think_ of you, in the moment. I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie felt an uncomfortable pang in his chest. An apology from Flash Thompson. He should be cheering. Rubbing it in the veteran’s face.

He only felt worse.

“ **Didn’t think you would come to Flash’s room** ,” the symbiote added with a sad trill. “ **Thought you would try to sleep. Didn’t think it would hurt you so much, to leave for a short while.** ”

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look at his other, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. It was still cold. So cold. Why couldn’t he get himself warm again?

“ **Don’t want to hurt you, Eddie** ,” it uttered. “ **Don’t mean to. Trying to do better, but...It is difficult, when we don’t know what will help and what will hurt right now.** ”

“We aren’t gonna just disappear, okay?” Flash attempted to assure. “I...Look, yeah, I admit I didn’t wanna do this, at first. But, I don’t want to give up. Neither of us do.”

Eddie grit his teeth together. Of course Flash wouldn’t give up. Flash Thompson didn’t give up. Agent Venom didn’t give up.

 _Heroes_ didn’t give up.

“Fucking golden boy,” Eddie hissed under his breath.

Just his luck, Flash heard it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” the veteran asked, raising an eyebrow.

Well, no reason to backtrack now that he’d blurted it out.

“ _Golden boy_ ,” Eddie repeated with a snarl. “You’re the success story. The _hero_. The one everybody _likes_ , who gets everything they fucking want, since they have it so damn _easy_.” He curled up tighter on the couch, glaring at the thoughtful glass of water in front of him. “Fucking Mr. _Perfect._ ”

“... _Wow_ ,” Flash stressed with a heavy, irritated sigh. He turned to the symbiote with an aggrieved grimace. “I thought you said he _respected_ me.”

“... **Also resents you** ,” it elaborated. “ **At the same time. His feelings are...complicated.** ”  
  
“Coulda _mentioned_ that. Jesus.”

Eddie ignored them. Tried to shut them out. If this was a hallucination, they should wear off, eventually. Fade out. He’d be back in California and dealing with _that_ disaster, instead.

...right?

It had been days since all this mess with Flash Thompson started, but they were still here. In New York. With Flash, and the symbiote, both trying to help him, apologizing, trying to _progress_ …

If he was wrong, if this _was_ real—but it couldn’t be. No, the symbiote had to be screwing him over, to manipulate him back into symbiosis. He didn’t want that.

Or, he did. Desperately.

But he didn’t—

“Brock.”

He hadn’t realized he’d shut his eyes until they snapped back open. Flash was leaning over to look at him, looking at once mildly concerned and incredibly annoyed.

“Get up, man.”

Eddie glared. “Why?”

“Because we’re gonna go for a walk,” Flash explained plainly. “We need a change of pace, and I need people around to keep me from decking you if you keep it up with this ‘Mr. Perfect’ bullshit.”

The older man’s brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes, affronted. “Did you just _threaten_ m—?”

“Yeah, I’m threatening,” Flash confirmed with a glare. “You clearly know fuck all about me, and if we’re gonna discuss that, I am gonna get _real_ pissed off, _real_ quick.” He tugged the blanket off Eddie, managing to catch the older man off-guard and succeeding in nearly toppling him to the floor. “C’mon! _Up_.”

Eddie got his feet under him, still crouched, both baffled and bent out of shape about the fact that Flash thought he could try to intimidate Eddie and get away with it.

A thought that apparently continued, as Flash ushered him toward the door. “Outside. Now.”

Eddie scowled at the command, but he knew he was outgunned, with Flash bonded to the symbiote. Reluctantly, the older man shuffled to the door of the apartment, pausing as Flash snatched his keys off the counter top.

The veteran was right behind him, a tendril sneaking around his wrist, squeezing gently. Trying to get his attention, maybe. Or trying to calm him down.

Eddie hesitated, but ultimately complied, too confused to argue, heading outside and waiting in the hallway.

Flash followed, and shut the door roughly behind them.


	13. Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and Eddie try to hash some shit out. Namely, their beef with each other.
> 
> Both are surprised by what they learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god it only took massive sleep-deprivation, depression, and THIRTEEN GODDAMN CHAPTERS for these idiots to sit down and really talk
> 
> Also I will admit that I don't know, canonically, how much exactly Eddie and Flash should know about each other. I'm going with "next to nothing," apart from what happened in Agent Venom, plus hearing rumors about the Space Knight stuff and what may have reasonably been on TV when Venom was a super villain.

Flash ended up leading them to the park, more so because it was a decent distance away than for any calming benefits the greenery might have. He didn’t think about it much as he propelled himself forward, trying to disguise the fact that he was fuming, and failing.

Had it _easy_ his _ass._

He didn’t know what kind of shit Eddie had been through to get to this point, but right now he didn’t care. Somehow, the other man had convinced himself that he, Flash Thompson, had led a perfectly easy life. Been a perfect Venom. Everything perfect, all the time.

 _Fucking golden boy_.

Flash bit back a snarl.

 **_Doesn’t know what you went through,_ ** the symbiote tried to explain. **_Doesn’t know about your life._ **

‘ _Yeah that’s pretty fucking obvious_ ,’ Flash shot back, maneuvering himself onto the walking path. There were plenty of people out and about, today. Playing frisbee, riding bikes, walking their dogs, all nice, normal civilians.

Plenty of witnesses to keep Flash in check, and discourage him from actually punching Eddie in the face.

“Why are we here, Thompson?” Eddie queried, struggling to keep pace with the pissed off veteran.

“We made a deal that we’d discuss shit when I thought you were being an asshole,” Flash reminded the other man. “So we’re going to _discuss_ whatever the _fuck_ makes you think I had it easy.”

Eddie scoffed at him. “You _did._ ”

“You don’t know a thing about me, Brock!” Flash snapped at him.

“I know you were the _hero_ ,” Eddie countered with a sneer. “Getting all the praise for saving everyone all the time.”

“What, as Agent Venom?” Flash laughed without humor. “You gotta be fucking joking.”

Eddie frowned, his expression almost confused at Flash’s denial. “I’m not.”

Flash let out a noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a sigh. He nodded his head at an unoccupied bench, sitting under a tree. “Let’s go over there,” he suggested, leading the way. There weren’t many people around this bench. They likely wouldn’t be overheard, if Flash could keep his temper down and his voice low.

He was already starting to regret coming outside for this.

Eddie followed, dropping himself onto the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked to Flash, expectantly.

Flash glared.

 **_Wanted to discuss_** , the symbiote reminded him. **_So, discuss. Better than punching him._ **

‘ _Only in theory_ ,’ Flash shot back, but shut his eyes and took a deep breath anyway. “Okay,” he started, gaze leveling with Eddie’s. “What do you _actually_ know about me, Brock?”

“That you’re a pain in the ass,” Eddie deadpanned.

“When I was _Agent Venom_ , you jackass,” Flash elaborated.

“I know.”

Flash buried his face in his hands.

Don’t strangle Eddie. Strangling Eddie would defeat the purpose of trying to _help_ Eddie.

He took another breath before trying again. “What gave you the idea that I’m some...I don’t fucking know, Mr. Perfect-Hero-Guy?”

The other man eyed the tendril of symbiote around Flash’s wrist. “You saved a lot of people as Agent Venom,” he explained. “Played the hero, then. Brought my symbiote to Klyntar and purified it.”

Flash stared at him, waiting for more. When the man only stared back, Flash barked a laugh. “That’s _it?!_ That’s all. That’s all you know and you’re claiming my life was _easy_.”

“You have plenty of friends to help you,” Eddie added with a glare. “Family, too.”

“Yeah, sure, family’s great!” the veteran started, a slightly manic smile on his face. “Y’know, when I’m not getting the shit beaten out of me by an abusive, alcoholic dad, or terrorizing my mom _as_ Venom, or getting my brother-in-law killed just because he was _associated_ with me, so I get to feel like an ass and a failure every time I talk to my sister.”

Eddie actually seemed startled by the rant.

“Let me guess—” Flash crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t know any of that.”

The other man had at least enough shame to dart his eyes away. “I was—”

“I don’t care that you didn’t know,” Flash stated. “I’m telling you now, got it?”

Eddie hunched, defensive but still quiet. Fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

 **_Listening_** , the klyntar elaborated.

“You were _right_ to decide to keep an eye on me, back then,” Flash continued. “When you promised to kill me when I lost control, I meant it when I said I’d _welcome_ it.”

The statement did get Eddie to look up, openly surprised. Maybe even a little horrified. “You— _what?_ ”

“Did you think I was joking?” Flash asked sternly.

“No, I thought—” the other man’s brow furrowed again. “I thought you were just...That it was some stupid display of bravado.”

“I was serious,” Flash revealed with a scowl. “I was a fucking _mess_. I was violent. An alcoholic. I broke up with my girlfriend, despite her every attempt to _help_ my sorry ass. I pushed everyone away and tried to drink myself to death.”

Something in the description seemed to resonate as Eddie straightened, shock entirely overwhelming the anger he’d shown earlier.

 **_Have his full attention_** , the symbiote pointed out. **_Keep going, Flash._ **

He did, but he could feel his voice shaking, only having talked vaguely about these issues with a therapist. Nothing as concrete, nothing as _specific_ as the information he was giving Eddie, who only got to learn these things because he already knew what _could_ happen as a host of Venom. “Innocent people died because of me, and not because I just couldn’t get there in time to save them,” Flash confessed, gritting his teeth. “I _hurt_ people. I _killed_ people. I was a bully all the way through high school, and then some. Becoming Agent Venom didn’t _change_ any of that _._ ”

“...You _did_ change it, though,” Eddie observed with a quiet voice. “You were a hero.”

“And I was a hero when I got my legs shot to hell, according to everyone I talk to,” Flash acknowledged. “But that didn’t change the fact that I was still a huge jackass. I got _lucky_ , getting to host the symbiote. I wasn’t picked because I was a good person—They just wanted somebody who would follow orders.”

Eddie seemed even more perplexed by the prospect. “You’re...Did you?” he asked hesitantly. “Were you following orders when I was…?”

At that, Flash snorted. “Hell no. I went AWOL. They created a whole team to clean up the mess I left behind. I even stole Captain America’s bike, at one point.”

The other man had stopped looking at him, confused and absorbed by his thoughts.

Flash felt the inclination to laugh, as more memories came to the forefront of his mind. Everything so horrific, but also so... _ridiculous_ , in retrospect. Stealing Cap’s bike. The symbiote taking over a car. “I’ve died before, too,” he commented off-handedly. “Got my neck snapped and went straight to Hell.”

Eddie regarded the veteran with absolute bafflement, his jaw dropping. “Wh—You went _where?_ ”

He couldn’t help it. He had to laugh a little, at that one. At Eddie’s _face_ , so shocked and appalled. “Only for a few minutes! Maybe not even a full one—But yeah. Went to hell. Got revived by a demon. Fun stuff.”

Eddie’s surprise, and the struggle he seemed to be having with reconciling his own idea of Flash with the truth, had an odd effect. Instead of getting angrier at all the assumptions, the fact that Eddie was still insisting he’d been a hero in spite of the new information was...weirdly heartwarming, in a way.

Here was a man who, in spite of hating his guts, really, genuinely thought Flash was _good._ Even now, with more context, Eddie was clearly having trouble changing his mind on that fact.

‘ _...he really does think I’m a good person_ ,’ Flash noted with a frown.

**_Told you._ **

It was an odd thing to know, but even stranger to see, as Eddie sat on the bench, unsure how to resolve the situation.

Flash never felt like a good person. Not even now, when he was doing reasonably well for himself. Even in the moment of saving people, of getting called a hero—He’d only done it because...how could he not? He did what Spider-Man, what _Peter_ would've done, in Iraq. He craved the abilities he wielded with the symbiote, so he went along with the program. The symbiote turned out to have its own thoughts, its own personality, so he took it and went AWOL. The Cosmos called, and he answered, like anyone else would in his position. In space.

It all boiled down to circumstances, really, not that he was some special, wonderful person. Just that he happened to be in the right place at the right time, somewhat consistently, and tried to be better than the person he knew he was.

Somehow, though, he’d at least managed to give off the impression of a hero, even in the mind of ex-enemy _Eddie Brock_.

 **_In my mind, too_** , his partner grumbled, annoyed at the self-deprecating thoughts swirling around Flash’s head.

A smile tugged at the veteran’s lips.

“I’m still dealing with all of it,” he told Eddie. “Still a recovering alcoholic. Still toeing the line with my anger issues—I really wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to punch you, earlier. I would have, without all the years of trying to _unlearn_ that reaction under my belt.”

The symbiote sent a warm, comforting pulse along Flash’s wrist.

Flash’s gaze dropped to the thin tendril. His partner had known most of this. Maybe even all of it. “You could’ve just asked the symbiote,” he pointed out, frowning to Eddie. “Why didn’t you?”

Eddie could only meet his eyes for a brief second. “...I didn’t want to,” he stated firmly. “I didn’t want to know anything about you.”

“I get you hated me, but it could’ve cleared a few things up,” Flash huffed, more than a little unimpressed with the answer.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Eddie explained quietly. “I just thought…” he trailed off with a wince, jaw clenching.

Flash studied him, but when the other man didn’t continue, he prompted, “Just thought _what?_ ”

“...I just thought you were better than me,” Eddie admitted, voice hardly louder than the distant chirps of birds in the trees.

The veteran’s eyes widened. “...What?”

Sure, he might have thought he was better than Eddie, at times. Several times within the past week, in fact. For _Eddie_ to think that, though, to _agree_ , came as a shock.

The other man, normally so brazen, so confident, only stared down at his empty hands. “We...I did things, as Venom, that are unforgivable,” he confessed. “We scared people. Even when we tried to do the right thing…” He scowled at the ground, anger not directed at Flash, for once, but inward. “Even when I tried...When we acted a lethal protector, instead of a villain, we still couldn’t escape our old reputation. I still can’t.”

Flash’s fingers clenched into uneasy fists on his lap.

A drunk driver, pulled from his car, stricken at the sight of the white spider on their chest.

_“You! You’re Venom! Holy shit, you’re Venom!”_

_“Don’t eat me!”_

That fear. That _terror_ at seeing anyone as Venom, still alive and fresh in the minds of the public, after all this time. Still the first thought, as recently as last night.

Eddie looked up then, frustrated and regretful, at Flash. “...but _you_ did.”

Flash’s lips parted in surprise.

“You _were_ a hero, as Agent Venom,” Eddie maintained. “My other is a hero, when it’s bonded to you.” His gaze dropped again, eyes downcast. “...I’m not.”

Flash wasn’t sure how to respond. His inclination was to deny it. To tell Eddie about the guy from last night. That Agent Venom wasn’t free from it either—

**_No! Don’t!_ **

...but that would hurt him. To know even someone using the symbiote to be a hero couldn’t escape the stigma. To know they’d saved someone, prevented a potential accident, and the man had fled in fear.

 **_Wanted to be better_** , the klyntar reminded Flash. **_Wanted to us to be better, for_ ** **Venom** **_to be better._ **

So, he really _had_ been trying. Eddie wanted to put the past to rest. Wanted Venom to be a hero, like he thought it had been with Flash.

Wanted the symbiote to be seen as _good_.

It was the complete opposite of the Eddie he’d known. The man who tormented him as Toxin, who condemned the symbiote and all its spawn, was not the man sitting before him on the bench. Somehow, in the time between when Flash had last fought him and now, Eddie changed. Tried to be better than himself, just like Flash had.

He’d hoped, of course, when he’d found out Eddie was hosting the symbiote again. Was fighting _with_ it, rather than against it. But he hadn’t dreamed Eddie would go so far as trying to fix the things he’d broken. Yet, here he was, having reevaluated everything. Having tried to point Venom in the right direction.

And then the Maker threw him completely off-course.

Eddie looked so uncharacteristically nervous, sitting there, fingers resuming their fidgeting along the edge of his shirt, probably even more anxious from Flash’s bout of silence.

The veteran bit the inside of his lip, trying to think. If Eddie really wanted to be better—If he wanted to _change_ , there was no way he’d be able to do it alone, no matter how stubborn he was. Flash was barely able to manage it, and Eddie was right—Flash had friends. He had support, even when he didn’t want it.

Support was necessary. Vital. Eddie would need it, especially if it came from someone who had been there, fighting to break himself out of a cycle of violence.

Flash breathed deep, before inching closer to Eddie. He held out his hand.

Eddie stared at the appendage, bewildered by the gesture.

“I know you think I might not be real,” Flash started, straight-backed and serious, “But, regardless, if you’re telling me the truth—If you really want to be a better person, I know how hard that is. So,” he nodded to his hand, offering Eddie a small smile. “I’ll agree to have your back, a hundred percent, if you’re willing to put the work in.”

The other man still seemed baffled, and tense. Suspicious. “...Seriously?”

“I want to see Venom as a hero, too,” Flash shrugged. “I was just an average jock playing at being a superhero. It’s a lot of hard work to change yourself. It doesn’t end. So,” he smiled a little wider. “I’ll help you however I can. Not for Venom, but for you. Okay?”

Eddie contemplated Flash’s outstretched hand for a disconcertingly long time. Almost to the point that Flash worried whether he should pull back, tell Eddie they’d just focus on his memories, try something else—

Eddie took his hand, grip hesitant, and gentle.

Flash could feel the symbiote squirming excitedly in his head, giving off bursts of exuberance like a series of fireworks.

“...okay,” Eddie agreed quietly.

The relief, the _joy_ Flash felt from the klyntar was contagious. He couldn’t help but grin, as he shook their joined hands, once, decisively. “Great.” When Eddie didn’t pull back, and Flash saw the barest ghost of a smile on the other man’s face, a question sprang to mind. “I’m gonna ask again—” he started, grip going a little tighter. “Which reality is winning?”

Eddie kept his hand clasped around Flash’s, clear blue eyes locked with green. “Right now?” he asked. At the veteran’s nod, he matched his grip with Flash’s. “...This one.”


	14. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Flash finally interact like normal human beings that don't want to constantly murder each other, and learn MORE things!! Shocking.

Eddie was still a little touchy when it came to Flash’s help. Still, the veteran considered the new agreementto be a huge enough win that he didn’t mind. They even managed to get Eddie a new set of clothes, after much reluctant grumbling, so he didn’t have to keep borrowing Flash’s hoodies (barely big enough in the shoulders, and far too loose around the middle for Flash’s liking).

Next on the list was a phone. Just a pay-as-you-go emergency line, on a pre-owned phone they got for cheap, so Flash could go to work without getting all the awkward questions about his new, brooding shadow. Eddie would no longer have to follow him around, and the older man could check in on where his symbiote was, whenever he wanted.

Eddie’s memories might still be in tatters, but the arrangement was getting the man to calm down. At least, a little.

 **_Should text Eddie_**.

Flash’s hand paused mid-way through tapping his pencil on his desk, a curious, questioning noise in his throat.

**_Meeting this afternoon. Should let him know._ **

“Everything alright?” Mr. Allshouse, office-mate and general busybody, asked.

Flash looked to the other desk, grateful his coworker hadn’t come back from vacation until this week. “Oh, yeah, just read something wrong,” the veteran answered dismissively, pulling out his phone.

“On Facebook?” Allshouse questioned with a smirk.

Flash shot him a petulant frown. “Of course not,” he stated firmly, even as he made zero efforts to hide his texting. “That would make me a bad role model for the students.” He sent the message to Eddie—a quick update, that he’d be late getting home because of the staff meeting.

The reply was almost immediate.

>I’ll meet you at the school.

Great. Defeated the whole purpose of letting him know Flash would be late, but whatever.

 **_Doesn’t trust us, still_** , the symbiote noted, its tone starting to sound more patient than sad about that fact.

Well, if Flash really thought about it, they had sort of completely broken Eddie’s trust.

With a soft sigh of resignation, he texted back.

<ok c u around 4

Another ping, as Eddie responded.

>God, could you write more obnoxiously?

Flash pouted, replying with a single, petty

<lol

Not that Eddie knew it was petty. The guy was still questioning why Flash didn’t bother with a landline. Texting was going to be a major learning curve. Still, now that Eddie knew where they were, and knew where to expect them to be, Flash was sure the man had to at least be pacified on that front.

* * *

 

In retrospect, Flash should not have been surprised that Eddie managed to track down where the staff meeting was, or that he waited outside for them. He was leaning against the wall, one foot against the brick, arms crossed, in a pose that reminded Flash of his own high school days. Of himself, waiting for Peter or some other poor sap to leave the cafeteria, so he could start punching them.

Thankfully, instead of ready to throw down, Eddie just looked bored.

“You done?” the older man asked as Flash wheeled up to him.

“Yeah, just gotta grab some stuff from my office.” Flash jerked his head in the appropriate direction. “C’mon. Then we can head home.” He heard whispering from behind them, as they moved down the hallway. The rest of the faculty, probably wondering who the hell Eddie was. Someone informing Allshouse that Eddie had been crashing in his office lately.

Not that it mattered, now. At least Eddie looked less like a murderer, this week.

The veteran glanced back at the other man, who seemed to be at ease enough to let his gaze drift to the trophy cases and student work as they passed, instead of laser-focused on Flash. With the new shirt and pants, and a shave, he still looked haggard and suspicious, but Eddie was starting to resemble his former, healthier self.

A warm, happy hum from the symbiote spread through Flash’s chest, pleased at the development.

“You said you were a jock, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Flash answered, surprised by the question. “I was a quarterback.”

Eddie studied him for a moment, contemplative.

“What?” Flash smirked. “Doubting the guy with no legs could run real fast?”

Eddie, to his credit, looked a little offended at the assumption. “No? I was wondering if you playing sports was where the name ‘Flash’ came from."

Flash let out a laugh, genuinely caught off-guard that Eddie had guessed. It was a simple nickname, and pretty obvious once people knew he’d played, but there were usually a lot more awkward explanations involved. “Yeah, actually. That’s exactly where that came from.”

“So you just... _kept_ your high school nickname?” Eddie questioned, looking very much like you couldn’t pay him to do the same.

“Sure. I like it,” Flash shrugged. They came up to his office, the symbiote sneaking out a thin tendril to keep the door open as Flash moved through it. “There’s good memories attached to it. Despite what an idiot I might’ve been, being one of the popular football guys was pretty nice.”

Eddie hummed softly, waiting just outside as Flash gathered his things.

‘ _What’s with the interrogation, all of a sudden?_ ’ the veteran directed at the symbiote.

 **_Realized he doesn’t know much about you,_ ** it responded. **_Fixing that. Curious._ **

Flash paused as he grabbed his lunch bag. That was...nice. Nicer than he expected, anyway. It was an actual show of effort, too, on Eddie’s part. Actually bothering to learn a little more about Flash, rather than assuming. Correcting his biases, now that he knew most of them had been wrong.

He almost felt outdone, really.

Two could play at this game. "How about you?” Flash turned the topic back on the other man, smiling at him as he exited the office. “What did you get up to in high school?”

Eddie looked taken aback. “I…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought, recalling. Or, perhaps trying to, having to sort through scattered, shattered memories. “...I was in wrestling.”

Oh, Flash could definitely see that. Big, bulky Eddie, grappling like a bear. No wonder Venom was so hands-on in their fights.

“Any fun nicknames from that?” Flash asked conversationally.

“Not especially.”

As they passed the trophy case again, Flash jerked a thumb at the awards. “What about trophies?” he grinned. “Were you any good?”

Eddie’s pace slowed as he looked at them, his eyes a little distant. Flash ended up having to stop, as the other man quietly regarded the gold-plated plastic and intricate ribbons.

 **_He was_** , the symbiote answered for him.

“...I guess,” was Eddie’s own response.

The disconnect bothered Flash. “You...guess?”

“I don’t really remember,” Eddie stated, eyes boring holes in one of the larger trophies.

“...Is that because your memories are mixed up?” Flash inquired, trying to be gentle. He couldn’t expect Eddie to remember all the details right now, but the uneasy squirm of the symbiote gave him the feeling that Eddie _should_ remember this much.

“Not that,” Eddie muttered. “I just...don’t know. I wasn’t exactly passionate about the sport itself—It was just a…” he trailed off, lips still parted like he’d meant to say the next part, but realized something halfway through the sentence.

Something that made his shoulders drop, curling in a little on himself.

“...It looked good on college applications,” the older man said, tearing himself away from the case.

The symbiote coiled around Flash’s collar, radiating concern.

“So…” Flash attempted to continue, not sure what odd train of thought the other man had just pushed through. “College applications—Were you making up for your grades or something?” He chuckled a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Mine sucked. I never knew how to study.”

“No,” Eddie said, a little more confidently. “I got straight As, usually.”

“What?!” Flash exclaimed. “That’s—C’mon, man, that’s not even _fair_ —” He narrowed his eyes at the other man, scowling as Eddie smirked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Eddie confirmed, looking far too pleased that he pissed off Flash with the answer.

The veteran continued to regard him with a skeptical stare, trying to imagine a teenage Eddie Brock.

He couldn’t.

He could only picture Eddie as he was, crouched and cramped into a high school student's desk, among much smaller, lankier peers.

Flash tried not to smirk at the thought.

 **_Looked like this,_ ** the symbiote provided, projecting a memory to Flash, directly.

A decidedly younger Eddie, so much more energetic, and already clearly into weight lifting, judging by his muscular frame. There was still a little baby fat—Still a little growing left, but he was definitely a teenager. He looked impeccable, even after a match, covered in sweat. Bright and bold, looking at his own reflection in a window, a first-place trophy in hand.

The emotions associated with the memory, though, were cold.

There was a haunted look in his eyes, even as he threw on a grin, turning to face cameras for the school newspaper. A darkness, beneath a perfectly polished surface. Something off. Something hidden, that drowned out whatever pride he should be feeling.

He searched the crowd, looking for someone he knew wouldn’t be there.

Flash blinked a few times, and Eddie of present day stood next to him, brow furrowed in question, looking so much older. Rougher. His eyes were still the same bright, piercing blue. Still haunted. Maybe even more so, now. 

“Thompson?” Eddie prompted, beginning to look a little concerned, himself.

“Sorry, uh—” He smiled awkwardly, not sure how to process the image of the high schooler against the man standing before him.

They were the same, so obviously the same but what _happened_ in that memory? Why did the boy’s expression bother Flash so much?

“Symbiote,” Flash elaborated quickly. “Decided to show me what you looked like as a kid.”

At that, Eddie seemed to relax, understanding the disorienting feeling plenty well. “Before or after I started dyeing my hair?” he questioned instead.

“I—” Flash’s words halted. Eddie had been blond, in that memory. Eddie was blond, now. Was blond...all the time. “Wait, hang on, you _dye_ it?”

Eddie’s head tilted to the side, regarding Flash’s confusion with his own. “You’ve seen my natural hair color,” he noted. “It’s brown.”

“It’s— _Brown?!_ ” Flash repeated, aghast as he started reexamining the man in front of him, stretching in his chair as he sought to get a look at his roots.

Then, he remembered. It wasn't just dark stubble, shaved off just this morning. Not when Eddie was with Toxin, cornering him in the hallway. Leering down at him. Dark stubble and dark hair.

His hair _was_ brown, then.

“Holy shit,” Flash breathed. “Oh my god, it _is_ brown. Why’d you dye it blond?”

“...I like it better?” Eddie answered with a shrug. “That’s what shocks you? Not the wrestling or the straight As, but my hair?”

“Look, I can get over you being a bookworm who played sports for college apps, even if I pegged you as a theater kid,” Flash stipulated, and then pointed accusingly at Eddie’s hair. “But I feel like I’ve been _lied_ to.”

“You _saw_ it brown, Thomp—Wait,” Eddie’s eyes narrowed in askance. “ _Theater_ kid?”

Flash froze. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Well,” he started gesturing to the other man with both hands. “You’re...you.”

 **_...Use your words, Flash_**.

“I know!” the veteran hissed to the side. “I just—You’re really dramatic. At least, you have been in the past. I figured you might’ve been into theater or something, y’know?”

“Says the Venom straight out of an action movie, with all those unnecessary guns,” Eddie scoffed.

“Hey!”

“Probably a B movie, at that,” the other man continued with a wolfish grin.

Flash pouted, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at Eddie. “Agent Venom is not the lead of a _B movie_ ,” he complained. “You can’t deny that the _best_ way to fight is with an awesome entrance and a snappy one-liner.”

Something happened then, that hit Flash harder than any punch Eddie had ever thrown at him.

Eddie laughed.

Honest to god _laughed_ , and not derisively or as part of some maniacal taunt. A plain, genuine laugh, pure and true.

Quick as it began, the laughter died down, but even with the smile still on his lips, the symbiote had wanted the sound to continue.

 _Flash_ had wanted it to continue.

“You’ve got me, there,” Eddie admitted with a huff. “Pretty sure we’ve waited for a more opportune, _dramatic_ moment to really get a fight going.”

Flash lifted his fists in victory. “ _Ha!_ ” he shouted, and then pointed to Eddie with a grin. “We have something in _common!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Eddie is a bottle blond" concept comes from hoardlikegoldenirises on tumblr (specifically, this comic https://hoardlikegoldenirises.tumblr.com/post/183685742132), and they were kind enough to let me use it in this fic! I just...I really love that as an explanation for why Eddie's randomly got brown hair in some arcs/shows. 10/10 idea, could definitely see him spending hours trying to get the shade right.


	15. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think with a symbiote knowing everything about Eddie and Flash, learning about each other would be a lot easier than it actually is

Another week down, and Flash was cozy on the couch, feeling like he’d earned some mindless television. The symbiote was snuggled against his stomach, vibrating gently as the veteran drew his hand over its slick form. He’d call it petting, were it not for the times he’d dig his fingers in, playing with the symbiote skin like it was silly putty.

He mildly thought he should get up sometime soon. Make lunch for himself. And Eddie.

**_Plenty of time until lunch_** , the symbiote mentally scolded. **_No moving._ **

Flash smirked, scratching the klyntar gently. Smiled, when it chirped.

The noise drew Eddie’s attention from where he sat, on the absolute other end of the couch, giving the pair an odd look before returning his gaze to Flash’s laptop.

Flash watched the other man type for a bit, before pausing. Scrolling through something. Frowning at the screen. Eddie had asked (well, _demanded_ ) to use it, citing ‘research’ as his reasoning.

How much research could he possibly need to do? On a _Saturday?_

“Whatcha looking at?” Flash asked.

Eddie glanced at him. “Job applications.”

The answer had Flash sitting up, immediately curious. “Wait, for real?”

“Checked my email already. Lost the job I had in California. If this…” Eddie grimaced around the apartment. “If this _is_ real, then I’m going to need money,” he reasoned.

Flash felt a little cheer from the symbiote as it chittered.

“That’s some good logic,” the veteran praised. “So, this reality’s winning today?”

Eddie looked less heartened by the notion. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Head hurts again, so it’s…” He squinted at something on the screen, and then gave up with an irritated grunt, rubbing his eyes.

Flash almost scooted closer to him, leaning forward a little. “You okay?”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “...Every time I feel like I’m making progress on which damn memory is which, I end up going in _circles_ ,” he growled. “The continuity of everything is a fucking disaster.”

Flash frowned, flummoxed on how to assist. “What do you usually do when you get stuck?”

“Start punching things,” Eddie answered. “As Venom.”

“Well, don’t punch anything in the apartment,” Flash stipulated. “I’d really like to get my security deposit back.”

Eddie snorted, smirking despite the headache.

Flash felt a little better upon seeing the expression. Since he’d managed to make Eddie laugh, he found himself trying to get it to happen more often. The universe was, for once, in his favor, as Eddie seemed to take Flash’s jokes less personally, finding more and more of them actually amusing. So, Flash sought out more options—More snark to get the other man to relax and smile, a little.

He knew the jokes weren’t helping Eddie’s memory or anything, but they helped the other man’s mood, which helped _everything_ else as a byproduct.

**_Likes wordplay_** , the symbiote provided with a knowing hum, as Eddie returned to his task.

Flash filed that information away, for a time he could use it, but then paused. It felt like cheating, having the symbiote _tell_ him what Eddie found funny. A little invasive even, since the words weren’t said aloud.

Not quite as invasive as a full recollection though, of Eddie’s high school years.

He told Eddie it was an image. To the older man, it probably sounded like a snapshot. A picture, with no context. Harmless.

Then Flash remembered the boy’s eyes, the upset beneath the pride, stomach turning, chest aching strangely at the sight of the crowd.

**_Could tell you what happened_** , his partner pointed out, tilting its head curiously at Flash.

The veteran had ceased petting, knowing he was breaking their promise to have the symbiote speak to them both when they were in the apartment. He wasn’t sure Eddie should know about this particular conversation, though.

‘ _Not sure that’s a good idea,_ ’ he thought at it. Outwardly, he looked pensively at Eddie, unsure how to even bring up the subject. “Hey, uh…”

Eddie looked at him, frowning in askance.

“...It didn’t bother you or anything, right? That the symbiote showed me what you looked like in high school?”

Eddie shrugged. “Not really.”

“It was…” Flash braced himself. Telling Eddie likely wouldn’t go over well, but dammit, the emotions involved were _bugging_ him now, and it felt far too intimate to keep to himself. “It was a memory. Of you. Looking at yourself after a wrestling match. Like a video clip or something, except I felt what you did.”

Eddie seemed unconcerned by the revelation. “Makes sense.”

“...it doesn’t bother you?” the veteran asked again, surprised in Eddie’s place. “I literally watched a minute of your life go by.”

“We were talking about it, so the memory would have provided some context,” Eddie said. Then, he smirked. “Or is this your way of admitting you really _are_ some fever dream, with knowledge you shouldn’t have?”

“Wha— _No!_ ” Flash startled at the sudden turn. “No, definitely not! _Ugh_ ,” he slumped heavily against the back of the couch, searching the ceilings for an answer to his stupidity.

Never should have brought it up.

Point for Drug Reality.

“Relax,” Eddie told him, eyes back on the laptop. “If you were, I doubt you’d be concerned by something like that _bothering_ me.”

‘... _Oh._ ’

**_Trick question._ **

Point for Flash, after all.

The veteran sat up, grinning. “So, it’s okay if it gives me more context sometimes?”

“Context only,” Eddie specified, and then narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “Don’t use that as an excuse to start prying.”

“I won’t,” Flash promised.

“...Seeing the memories might work better, anyway,” Eddie muttered to himself. “Experiencing them is better than any explanation I could give.”

Flash knew not to take the statement as permission, but he had to admit his own curiosity. Eddie had a point. Living through what Eddie did, experiencing the emotions he went through, rather than dealing with ‘clunky human words,’ would be infinitely more efficient. He crossed his arms behind his head casually as he thought aloud. “Be easiest if we could just like, bond the three of us together at the same time, wouldn’t it? Learn about each other that way? I mean, I know we almost did before, but—”

“ ** _No!!_** ” Eddie and the symbiote immediately shouted, in unison.

Flash nearly jumped out of his own skin, his hands dropped down to hold in front of himself, like there was a threat he needed to defend from. The symbiote had surged upward in an instant, eyes narrow and scolding before Flash’s face.

Eddie, to his side, looked horrified.

“O-Okay...?” Flash managed to squeak out, looking from man to symbiote, baffled. “No bonding shortcuts,” he declared. “Message received.”

With that, both of them appeared to relax. Both still uneasy.

Both looking a little remorseful.

“...What, uh, what was _that_ about?” Flash asked tentatively.

Eddie and the symbiote looked at each other, briefly, before they both looked down.

“ **We have...done it fully, before,** ” the symbiote admitted, “ **With Anne.** ”

“Anne?” Flash questioned.

“My wife,” Eddie elaborated. Then, after mulling for a moment, he quietly added, “Ex-wife.”

Judging by their reactions, Flash felt it safe to assume that the process had not gone _well_ , to say the least. Still, there was an ache radiating from the symbiote—So much _regret_ , that he couldn’t bring himself to leave it alone. “What happened?”

The symbiote’s emotions swirled, overwhelming to the point that Flash had to back off from their connection. Too much. Too much weight, of _sadness, regret, guilt—_

“She learned everything about us. About me,” Eddie answered softly, and Flash could see his jaw tightening from here. “...it horrified her, and she left.”

“...Oh,” Flash mumbled sheepishly, turning back to the symbiote. He reached out to it with his hand, knuckles gentle as he trailed along its form. There was more to it, he could tell. Could feel it, from his partner. The question burned in his mind, wanting to ask. Wanting to know what the hell happened, to get them both so depressed in an _instant_.

“...we were trying to _protect_ her,” Eddie muttered, the pain loud and clear in his soft tone.

“ **Never meant to frighten her, Eddie** ,” the symbiote assured. “ **Never thought she would...** ”

The other man went silent.

Flash sat there, at a loss for what to do.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit._

He needed something to change the subject. Something to lighten the mood. Something to save him from this complete conversational fuck up.

A knock came at the door.

Flash bit back a sigh of relief, maneuvering into his wheelchair. “I’ll get it,” he commented awkwardly, concerned at the lack of response from Eddie. He pushed forward, though, grateful for the distraction. Probably just one of the neighbors, but at least it was something to break this dark, heavy mood Flash had suddenly landed them in.

He approached the door, optimistic.

The symbiote, though, could sense a peculiarity from the person behind the door. A familiar one.

**_...Oh no,_ ** it uttered, sinking into Flash’s skin in an instant.

Flash was already turning the knob, pulling the door open. Too late to stop himself as his partner grew increasingly distressed.

Before him, stood Peter Parker.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter greeted with a smile. “Eddie’s not still here, is he?”


	16. Friendly Neighborhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has Concerns with the current arrangement.

‘... _Oh no,_ ’ Flash thought, one hand still on the doorknob as he gawked at Peter.

There was a loud, infuriated groan from the living room.

“...so he _hasn’t_ left,” Peter observed, directing a lukewarm stare in Eddie’s direction.

“The hell do _you_ want?” Eddie snarled, starting to move the laptop so he could stand from the couch.

“Maybe for you to get out of my buddy’s apartment?” Peter suggested cheerfully. Then, spotting Eddie’s outfit, instantly shot a disconcerted frown at Flash. “Why is he wearing your hoodie?”

“None of your business, _Parker!_ ” Eddie snapped.

“ _Relax,_ ” Flash stressed, holding one hand out to Eddie. “I’m not gonna sit around and let you two duke it out in here.” He turned back to Peter, hoping his face looked more patient than he felt at the moment. “What’s with the drop by?”

“Checking in, like I said I would,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe try to convince you that babysitting Brock isn’t really the _best_ idea you’ve ever had.”

“He is _not—!_ ”

“Nope!” Flash cut Eddie off. Then, he pointed to Peter. “You, outside.” To the irate man on his couch, he ordered, “You, keep focused. We’re winning today, right?”

“Not right _now,_ ” Eddie growled.

“What?!” Flash despaired. Their reality was winning _earlier_. Wasn’t that the whole reason Eddie was job searching? Surely their discussion hadn’t swung Eddie’s clarity _that_ hard in the hallucinations’ favor. “Why not?!”

“Because I don’t want to deal with him _,_ ” Eddie noted, eyes still locked on Peter.

God _dammit_.

Flash groaned. Such a stupid reason. Not even a _real_ reason. Eddie couldn’t be serious about that.

 **_Too upset_** , the symbiote observed. **_Needs to calm down and focus._ **

The veteran agreed, ushering Peter out and toward the hallway. Better to remove the offending person immediately than let Eddie get any worse than he already was. “Go on, Pete.”

“What? What did I do? I only—”

“ _Go_ ,” Flash insisted with a shove to his friend’s hip. “I’ll be out in a minute.” While Peter complied confusedly, Flash made his way back over to the living room, retrieving his phone.

Eddie watched him, muscles all tense again.

So much for the calm of a sleepy Saturday morning. “We won’t be gone long,” the veteran promised, looking seriously to the other man. “I’ll keep an eye on my texts, and I’ll let you know if there’s any change of plans, okay?”

The barest hint of relief was visible in Eddie’s shoulders.

“You...try to get back to what you were doing,” Flash suggested, waving weakly to the abandoned laptop. He started toward the door, adding another “Be back soon,” for good measure.

“...Okay,” he heard Eddie quietly respond.

* * *

 

“How much farther away do we have to get from your apartment?” Peter complained as he walked a step behind Flash. “It’s not like I came over to _fight_ him! And why the hell is he wearing your clothes?!”

“It’s just the hoodie—They didn’t bring any from California, and it’s getting colder,” Flash explained, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead of him.

Idiot. For such a smart guy, Peter was such an _idiot_ , sometimes. How the hell was dropping by the apartment supposed to help? Maybe Peter hadn’t known that Eddie would be in a bad mood when he came over, but he could have at least warned _Flash_ beforehand.

“I’m surprised your clothes even fit the guy,” Peter commented.

Of course, Peter wasn’t _trying_ to help Eddie, Flash realized. Or the symbiote.

Only Flash was doing that.

“You really have perfect timing, today,” Flash stated, tone short and irritated.

“Do I?” his friend asked, brightening.

Flash shot him a glare over his shoulder.

“...Sarcasm, got it,” Peter sighed. He observed Flash for a brief moment, before piping right back up again. “You seem tense.”

“I fucked up,” Flash explained as they made a circuit around the block. “I said something stupid without realizing it, and upset them both at the same time.”

 **_You didn’t know_** , the symbiote insisted, a comforting curling mass around his ribs. **_Not your fault_**.

“I still feel bad about it,” the veteran responded quietly.

“That sort’ve comes with the territory, for Eddie,” Peter observed nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walked. “Guy’s a loose cannon.”

“I’m not sure how much of that is on purpose anymore.”

At that, Peter walked a little faster, leaning to give the veteran a quizzical look. “Uh, care to elaborate on that?”

“We talked,” Flash explained, slowing until they stopped next to a mini mart. “He wants to get better. Be better.”

Peter stared at him, unimpressed.

After several seconds of silence, Flash frowned. “What?”

“Eddie Brock says he’s trying to be a better person,” Peter clarified, expression unchanging.

“...Yeah?”

Peter scoffed, turning away as he smiled derisively. “Yeah, that’s not gonna stick.”

Flash glowered, symbiote bristling under his skin at the quick dismissal. “He’s _trying_ , or at least he’s _starting_ to—”

“He’s not,” Peter insisted, directing a tired expression at the veteran. “Flash, come on. He’s done this countless times. Eddie always pretends he’s repented. It’s not _real_ , it’s for _attention_. That’s all he _wants_ ; He just wants to—”

 **_Sincere, this time!_ ** the symbiote argued in Flash’s head. **_Wants to be better! Wants all this to—_ **

“ _Stop_ ,” Flash hissed, rubbing at his temples with one hand. He glared up at Peter, his partner’s agitation rubbing off on him. “God. Just—Is it so hard for you to accept that _maybe_ this time he’s serious?”

“Yes,” Peter answered with a deadpan.

“Right,” Flash growled a sigh, rubbing his temples again.

Peter appeared to soften, somewhat, as he regarded his friend. “Flash, I know you mean well, but Eddie’s _impossible_.”

**_Is not!_ **

“What is that supposed to mean?” Flash challenged.

“Well, ignoring the fact that he’s exhausting to deal with, which I’m _sure_ you’ve noticed—” he paused long enough for Flash to dart his eyes away, ashamed that he knew exactly what Peter meant. “He just doesn’t _mean_ any of it. He only wants the attention, and he knows he’ll _get_ it if people feel _sorry_ for him.”

“...and so what if I _do_ feel sorry for him?” the veteran inquired with a furrowed brow. “The Maker fucked him up pretty bad. Maybe he _has_ had a pretty shitty time of things.”

“Sure he has,” Peter acknowledged with a shrug. “He’s made the worst possible decisions every chance he got. He’s screwed himself over and refuses to take responsibility for it.” He leaned down slightly, to grasp Flash by the shoulder. “Buddy. Listen,” he glowered. “Don’t fall for his schtick. Eddie Brock is throwing a pity party, and he’s made _you_ the guest of honor.”

Flash glowered right back, conflicted.

Peter had a point. Eddie _had_ done this before. Hell, he even gave away Anti-Venom, freely, to heal people, because he’d supposedly found his faith again or something. Turned a new leaf. Good will by the grace of God.

It didn’t last.

He tried to kill Flash pretty soon after that, actually.

“This is not _your_ responsibility,” Peter stressed. “You don’t have to do this.”

Flash could feel the symbiote’s pained whine, even if he couldn’t hear it. The ache in it, the pleading for Flash to ignore Peter’s words. To help its other. That was the whole reason it had brought Eddie to Flash in the first place, after all.

The veteran sighed through his nose, turning his head. “...I promised,” he uttered through grit teeth. “We shook on it.”

Peter breathed in deep, and dropped his head with an aggravated sigh of his own. “Really, dude.” He straightened, hands on his hips, looking more like a stern parent than Flash’s best friend. “I don’t care _what_ you promised him. You should kick him out before all this blows up in your face.”

 **_He_ ** **would** **_suggest that,_ ** the symbiote snarled, **_with how many promises_ ** **he’s** **_broken._ **

Flash knew, as he glared at the advertisements in the window of the mini-mart, that his partner’s anger—its resentment—was bleeding into his own aggravation. Still, even knowing that, he couldn’t stop his fingers from tightening around the rim of his wheels. “So, what,” he turned back to Peter, jaw clenched as he bit out the question, “You saying I should follow Spider-Man’s example on dealing with him? Break my promise and leave him to fail? How many times would that make this?”

Peter looked startled at the tone, and more than a little offended.

“He needs _help_ ,” Flash insisted.

“Yeah, he does!” Peter huffed a laugh. “ _Professional_ help! Not _you!_ ”

“It’s not like I know a therapist that specializes in this shit! Trauma, sure, but I don’t know any that got a degree in having an alien share your body for a decade!” Flash shot back. Internally, though, he winced, immediately recalling that said alien was currently housed in his own body. ‘... _No offense, sweetheart.’_

 **_Know what you meant_ **, his partner assured him, agitation still solely directed at the man before them.

“...Huh. Kinda thought you would, all things considered,” Peter mused.

“ _Peter_ ,” Flash growled.

The hero held his hands up, though he was unsurprised when the action did nothing to pacify Flash. “Look, I just don’t want you getting _hurt_ , okay? He’s hurt enough people. You _know_ that.”

Flash could feel the metal rims digging into his palms. Of course he knew. Knew that fact going in. Knew now, that Eddie hated the part of himself that had done it. Hated it, rejected it, even if he felt justified in the moment.

Another thing Eddie had in common with himself, now that he thought about it.

The difference was that Flash had help. 

“...Didn’t see you following that advice for _me_ ,” Flash snarled then.

Peter looked taken aback. “ _What?_ ”

“You _fought_ for me,” Flash stated, a hand on his chest. “You didn’t abandon me. You were one of the few people I could actually _rely_ on, even when I was pushing you away! That’s the kind of support he needs if he’s going to make any damn headway!”

“That’s—That is _completely_ different,” Peter stated, scowling. “You’re my _friend—_ ”

“And Eddie’s got _so_ many friends, right?!” Flash interrupted with a shout, uncaring of the stares from passersby he earned in response. “What is he supposed to do?! He doesn’t have access to a therapist!”

“But—”

“If he had anyone else to help him, the Other wouldn’t have brought him to _me!_ ”

“That doesn’t make it _your_ job!” Peter shouted back. “Leave it to someone else _—_ Leave it to someone who’s actually qualified to _handle_ that—!”

“ _Who?!_ ” Flash questioned. “Who the _fuck_ do you know who could do that?! Don’t act so goddamn high and mighty when you’re not gonna offer any fucking _solutions!_ ”

Peter backed up, just a bit, just a flinch, and a part of Flash’s heart sank as he realized what he was doing.

Shouting at his best friend.

Angry and shouting, the same tone he’d use when they were kids. Inching closer, as if he was preparing to launch himself from his wheelchair to make a grab at Peter.

‘ _Calm_ **_down_** _,_ ’ he told himself, knowing it was a losing battle. Knowing there were now several people around them, staring, clutching their phones. Ready to record, or report him, if a fight broke out.

“...If I find somebody,” Peter started hesitantly, looking like the words physically pained him, “Will _that_ be enough to get you to stop?”

Flash stared at him, baffled. Still angry. “What are you _talking_ about?”

Peter again looked as though he wished he could think of _anything_ else. With a glance at the crowd, he waved for Flash to follow him, away from the mini-mart.

The veteran did, carefully avoiding the questioning gazes that met him along the way.

 **_Okay to be angry, Flash_** , the symbiote insisted.

‘ _Not like that._ ’

He knew better. He _was_ better. He avoided the worst of it, most days.

‘ _Never like that.’_

Flash bit the insides of his cheeks as he followed Peter, feeling every bit as pissed off and stupid as ever. He forced himself to breathe evenly. Old techniques, taught to him in therapy, back when he actually made the effort to go.

‘ _Focus,_ ’ Flash told himself. He needed to be calm. Peter needed to be able to talk to him. The symbiote needed him to not flip out and cause it to regress, again.

Eddie needed him to be an example.

They traversed a couple more blocks before he couldn’t stand Peter’s quiet, unflappable demeanor anymore. “You gonna explain what you were talking about?” Flash asked, making the effort to keep his tone more even, and less of a snarl. Less reminiscent of a symbiote. He somewhat succeeded.

Peter looked over his shoulder, slowing his pace until he was next to Flash. “It’s only an idea,” he specified. “I don’t have a plan, but…” Dragging his hand over his short, messy locks, he frowned deeply at Flash. “If I get somebody to babysit Brock _instead_ of you, will you promise me you’ll stop enabling him and send Venom back to California?”

Flash relaxed along with the symbiote, their surprise echoing against each other.

**_...wants to help?_ **

‘ _No way,_ ’ Flash inwardly scoffed. ‘ _He might be helping, but it’s not for Eddie. It’s for—_ ’ the veteran paused as he realized what he could do.

Peter would never help Eddie, but he would help _Flash._

And, in helping Flash, Flash could potentially help Eddie.

It was a bit roundabout, but at least it gave Eddie a _chance_ of something that might work, for once. Connections that Flash may not have thought of. Resources that Eddie could use. A wider safety net, in case either Flash or Eddie slipped up in their efforts.

“I don’t...I’m not _sure_ if I know anyone, but I might know people who...know people,” Peter continued awkwardly, clearly reluctant to even put forth the idea, his instant regret plain on his face. “ _Maybe._ ”

“I’m not going to enable him,” Flash swore, getting his tone back under control. “Pete, if you _can_ find somebody—A therapist or—”

“You’ll make him leave your apartment?” Peter suggested hopefully.

He was going to have to compromise. Eddie was looking for jobs already, and Flash couldn’t realistically keep him on as a roommate. Not without Eddie paying some rent or something, and that was assuming they’d even be able to stand each other long enough. Still, if Eddie kept at it, kept job hunting, he might have some income by the time Peter tracked somebody else down.

“If he’s got enough money,” Flash specified.

“Or a bed at a homeless shelter,” Peter countered, grimacing.

“Something _stable_ ,” Flash counter-countered. “He has to agree to _see_ this theoretical therapist, too, otherwise there’s no point.”

Despite his expression making it obvious that Peter very much didn’t care whether Eddie kept up with therapy or not, he rolled his neck with a conceding groan. “ _Fine_ ,” he grumbled. “I’m not responsible if he decides halfway through that he’s just gonna go back to the way he was, though.”

Stressed symbiote uncoiling slightly in his stomach, Flash breathed. Tried to calm down, a little more. “‘Course not,” he agreed, still scowling. “He’s Spider-Man’s problem then, right?”

The not-joke went unappreciated as Peter look away, a quiet, frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

“Let me know when you find someone,” Flash told him, turning to leave. “Don’t just swing by my place unannounced like that again, either. It’s not gonna help anything.”

As he made his way back to the apartment, he heard Peter shout after him, “ _No promises!_ ”


	17. New Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash and the symbiote return from their talk with Peter. Eddie.exe needs a reboot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise sillier stuff is on the way next week because I'm making MYSELF sad, dammit

Eddie glanced at his phone, debating. Half an hour since Flash left. Not long, by any normal standard, but the veteran still had his symbiote. Was still talking to Peter Parker, who was most assuredly convincing Flash that Eddie wasn’t worth his time. Parker, who was probably telling Flash to contain the symbiote. Kick Eddie out. Neutralize the threat they posed, even if they weren’t bonded.

Eddie could text Flash. Ask where he was. Demand to know what was taking so damn long.

He nearly did, fingers reaching for his phone, but he paused.

Flash told him to get back to what he was working on in the meantime. Eddie’s eyes felt like they would glaze over, reading over the repetitive forms of yet another job application. Which one was this? Ninth? Tenth?

He couldn’t focus anymore.

He couldn’t get Flash’s promise out of his head. His word that he would _help_ , in any way he could, not for the symbiote’s sake, but for him. Help that came with food, and shelter, even clothes and a _phone_. The very phone that Eddie now held, still unsure whether he should text Flash now, or give the veteran a little while longer to keep his word.

A part of him felt he should wait. Give Flash the benefit of the doubt, after offering so much help. More help than Eddie would have dared to ask for, at this point in his life. A _roof_ over his head felt like too much, let alone receiving any assistance from someone like Flash Thompson.

Flash Thompson, Agent Venom.

Flash Thompson...Alcoholic.

Anger issues. Bully. Murderer. Went straight to _Hell_ when he died, a fact which Eddie still could not get over, muddled with the surprise that Flash had died and come back, only to die again as Agent Anti-Venom.

...Maybe. Still unclear.

Regardless, Flash had been through far more than Eddie gave him credit for, and come out on top. Come out _stronger_. Strong enough that he felt capable of assisting Eddie to do the same.

And now, after a talk with Parker, that was probably all over.

That had to be some sort of new record for his life going to shit again.

Eddie slumped down on the couch, propping a foot up on the coffee table as he stared at the job application form. For a brief, fleeting couple of days, he almost thought he had a chance. That maybe this _was_ reality, and he _could_ work on all the demons that plagued him after all, with someone actually...supporting him.

Someone who wasn’t the symbiote, or...completely, utterly horrified by him. Someone who actually seemed to give a damn.

And now, just like that, it would be over. After all, why would Flash have any reason to trust Eddie over Parker? Texting him now wouldn’t do Eddie any good. And even if, by some miracle, Flash insisted on helping anyway, what guarantee did Eddie actually have? There was still the nagging chance that none of this was real. That the Maker was still operating on him, or he’d been hit in the head during that Kree invasion, or while protecting Dylan—

Fuck, he’d almost forgotten about Dylan.

Again.

...Again?

WIth an irritated grunt, Eddie ran his hands over his eyes. ‘ _This is fucking ridiculous_.’

Some memories felt connected. Like there was a solid line, leading from one event to the next.

Others felt sporadic. Inserted at random. Related, but not in a way that made any damn _sense._ He would hit a wall again, at this rate, trying to catch them mid-thought and pin them down by force. It didn’t work. He always got stuck. He couldn’t punch his way out of it. He wasn’t Venom right now, and even then, he couldn’t tear the thoughts out of his head to beat them into submission.

Eddie peered through his fingers at the laptop screen. Then, at the keyboard.

He couldn’t punch, but he could still _write_ , couldn’t he?

Once a well-respected, enviable journalist. Now...Well, now he could at least take notes on what he could recall, and which memories were connected.

Then, if Flash came back and kicked him out, he’d at least have a head start on whether he should be in New York or California.

Eddie dropped his phone onto the couch cushion, focusing on the laptop instead. He opened a blank document in the word processor and, after a lag, the text cursor blinked to life.

The ex-journalist shifted, sitting up again, and began to type.

* * *

 

There was a jangling of keys hitting the locks, muffled cursing, and a _thud_ before Flash made it back into the apartment.

Eddie paused, fingers stilling on the keyboard, looking up disdainfully at the veteran. Disdainfully, because he knew that if he didn’t glare at least a little, then the anxiety he felt at Flash’s return was that much more likely to show on his face.

“Hey,” Flash greeted, tone clipped and exhausted.

Eddie braced himself.

“Sorry about that,” Flash continued, shutting the door and tossing his keys at the kitchen counter. They hit the edge, clattering on the floor as the veteran stared at them. He took a visible breath, exhaling slowly, a fist clenched around one of his wheels.

A tendril extended from his forearm, picking up the keys and placing them gently on the counter in his stead.

“Thank you,” Flash muttered, reorienting himself to make his way to the living room.

Eddie regarded the other man with unease. His work was still unfinished. Memories still not fully recorded. Judgement still out on whether or not the weary veteran staring back at him was a hallucination or not.

In a few moments, he would more than likely be on his own again, regardless.

“...You okay?” Flash asked with a concerned frown.

“What happened?” Eddie questioned in return.

Flash let out a grunt of annoyance. “Well, I shouted at Peter in the street, for one,” he grumbled. Despite the shame on his face, he relaxed, crossing his arms over his chest as he nodded at Eddie. “Got him to agree to look for a therapist for you in the meantime, though.”

Eddie blinked once. Then again, brow furrowing.

He couldn’t have heard that right.

“He...what?”

“He’s ticked you’re still here,” Flash acknowledged, but dismissed it with a wave. “He wants somebody else to look out for you, but he wasn’t giving me any alternatives. So that’s a no-go.” The veteran shrugged. “Told him he needs to find somebody that _you_ agree to see if he wants me to go back on my promise.”

Eddie, so good with words, was at a loss.

“I’m not _going_ to,” Flash continued, like he took Eddie’s silence as a sign he needed to reassure the older man. “I gave my partner and you my word, and I’m gonna stick to it, but...Honestly, having a therapist for you to work stuff out with would help a lot. There’s some shit I am not equipped to deal with, but that shouldn’t mean you have to face it alone. It’d be extra help with psych stuff until we can find something stable for you.”

“Something stable?” Eddie repeated, hardly processing.

“Yeah, I mean, you can crash here in the short-term, but I figure once you’re earning money again you’ll probably wanna find a place of your own, right?” Flash offered the other man a small smile. “I’m still gonna have your back for getting better, but once the shit with your memories is settled I’m _guessing_ you’ll wanna stop sleeping on my couch.”

This was the absolute opposite of what Eddie had prepared himself to face.

The ex-journalist could only look at Flash with a baffled expression, body still and quiet, unsure of how to even _begin_ parsing the information.

Parker wanted him gone, as Eddie suspected.

Flash argued with him— _fought_ with him, to keep Eddie around. To keep his promise. To get Eddie the help he needed, and then some.

There was an ache somewhere in Eddie’s chest.

“...Brock?” Flash questioned, eyes concerned again. The symbiote slid out of his shoulders, joining in on the worried look, chirping inquisitively.

He wasn’t getting kicked out.

He wasn’t going to have to fend for himself.

“You…” Eddie spoke up, finally, finding his voice straining. “You fought Parker.”

“Yeah?” Flash confirmed, confused.

“For...my sake.”

At that, Flash frowned, the meaning of Eddie’s words lost on him. “Yeah. I said I’d help you, didn’t I? It’ll piss off Pete, but he’ll get over it.”

Simple. So simple, to Flash. Keeping his word. Nothing special.

Yet, to Eddie, who had hurt Flash so many times, who snarled and snapped and bickered with him, even when Flash was supporting him—For Flash to fight Parker—to fight _Spider-Man_ , not just for the symbiote, but for _Venom—_

To fight for—

“Eddie?”

The older man wasn’t sure when he’d dropped his gaze back to the laptop, but now he couldn’t lift it, even when he felt Flash’s hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie, what’s wrong, man?”

His breaths felt too short. Too shallow. Eddie’s eyes roved over the memories he managed to write down. Some solid, some a jumble. All of them a scattered, painful clutter that would take him ages to sort through on his own.

One reality, where the symbiote had never loved him. Where everything he believed in was faked. Where he had a son he’d never known, never raised. Where there was war, and pain, and loneliness.

Another, where the symbiote truly loved him. Where it brought him to New York to get better. Where it brought him to Flash, who was still alive, who was more than Eddie had ever realized. Where there was help, and patience, and...hope.

The words went blurry, and Eddie couldn’t quite hear what Flash was saying now, just a gentle, warm hand on his shoulder. His symbiote, his love, his _darling_ , approached as close as it could, still mindful of Eddie’s space, just a little black and white blur.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, head aching, dimly aware that he was hunched over. That Flash was closer, had his whole arm across Eddie’s shoulders. That something wet had dropped from his eye lashes and onto the laptop.

If he waited, maybe his mind would clear. He’d know which reality was which, if he could just be patient enough. Tried hard enough. Then he could open his eyes and know whether he really had to deal with all the emotions threatening to overwhelm him at once.

He was scared to open his eyes.

He didn’t want to open them again, and see California.

He didn’t want to see the Maker.

He didn’t want to wake up, only to find that Flash, his symbiote, and the apartment were gone.

“Eddie,” he heard Flash repeat, the veteran’s voice a murmur. There was a slight edge of panic he could hear, the younger man probably unsure how to handle the situation. Flash’s arm squeezed a little tighter around the ex-journalist’s shoulders, warm and heavy, feeling so _real_. “Eddie, hey, it’s okay…”

“ **What’s the matter, Eddie?** ” he heard the symbiote trill, as a tendril snaked its way around his hand.

“You, uh...You want some food?” Flash offered. “Will that help? You gotta be hungry by now.”

The question made Eddie notice that his stomach felt like someone had skewered a hole through it. Empty, hollow, like his aching chest.

He nodded, eyes still shut.

There was a clap on his back. A quick rub. “Okay,” Flash sighed, relief that he had something he could do blatantly obvious. “I’ll get started on some lunch.”

Eddie felt Flash retreat, but the symbiote stayed, stretching as the veteran moved away, still wrapped tight around Eddie’s fingers.

He opened his eyes, just a sliver, seeing the edge of the laptop.

He saw the black spread over his hand. White eye spots that looked iridescent if you looked close enough, with hundreds, thousands of colors, looking right back at him.

The symbiote chirped.

‘... _Concerned_ ,’ Eddie thought as he regarded his symbiote. ‘ _It’s...worried about me_.’

“How’s soup sound?” Flash asked from the kitchen.

Eddie trailed his free hand along the symbiote’s head, warmth spreading through his fingertips as it chittered, nuzzling gently against his palm. “Good,” he replied. “...Thank you.”

His brain still felt foggy. Still unsure, as he looked over what he’d written. Eddie didn’t know yet, which reality he was truly facing. Not for sure.

He was sure, though, which one he wanted.


	18. Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to get groceries leads to some interesting conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to finally be writing the boys not continuously snapping at each other oh my gOD

There was a shift, after Flash spoke with Peter. Eddie seemed to be doubling-down on his efforts, borrowing the laptop more often, applying to more and more jobs. Typing almost every time Flash saw him, hard at work. He didn’t snap so much. Cooperated more. Seemed less on edge, overall, and less grumpy when Flash woke him up in the morning.

Flash wasn’t sure what caused the shift, exactly, but he wasn’t going to complain. Massive points for Actual Reality meant he could have somewhat normal conversations with Eddie.

“How did you deal with the instinct to eat brains?”

...Emphasis on _somewhat_.

Flash shot the older man a questioning look as he grabbed a container of cherry tomatoes. “...should I be concerned? There’s healthier stuff to eat here,” he gestured tiredly to the rest of the grocery store.

Eddie looked almost petulant, standing sullenly to the side. “You know what I’m talking about,” he insisted, crossing his arms, the basket he carried balanced in the crook of his elbow. “What did you do?”

Flash glanced around, hopeful that the other shoppers weren’t paying them much attention. He was wearing his prosthetics today, so there were a few curious stares here and there, but if anyone had heard Eddie’s question, they didn’t show it. “...It was drugged up for a long time,” he admitted. “So I didn’t have to worry about it often, but…” The veteran frowned, placing the tomatoes in Eddie’s basket. “Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s not as if I’ve had many _calm_ discussions about being a host with someone who knows what it’s like.”

“Oh.” Flash hadn’t thought of that. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever entertained the idea of commiserating with Eddie about being the host of a symbiote.

 **_Might be good to discuss_** , said symbiote suggested. **_Could learn from each other._ **

Eddie had been a host for years, and long before Flash. The other man probably figured things out on his own that could have helped during Flash’s time as Agent Venom.

If, of course, Eddie hadn’t been trying to murder him, at the time.

Now, though, Flash could make his way over to the limes, pick out a few, and rely on the other man to keep the basket steady as Flash tossed the fruits in. Could even get Eddie to carry their groceries through the whole store, without complaint. If anything, Eddie seemed more at ease, given a task.

“I, uh...I didn’t handle it _well_ ,” Flash admitted with an awkward smile, grateful that New Yorkers were naturally inclined to mind their own business as they shopped. “What did you do?”

Eddie looked a little dissatisfied with the answer, but responded anyway, stating, “Panicked. Prepared myself to kill it, after it left me.”

“That’s really just your go-to, isn’t it?” Flash asked with a frown.

“I didn’t go through with it, obviously,” the other man observed. “I went and got phenethylamine supplements once I knew that was what it needed.”

“Okay,” Flash said, narrowing his eyes before he moved onto the next area. “Just, maybe stop jumping to ‘I need to kill it.’”

“I have!” Eddie argued, following a few paces behind.

Flash shot him a disbelieving look, but largely in jest. “I know,” he assured Eddie, leaning a bit on his cane as he smirked. “Even you can’t say that was a great reaction, though.”

“I _wasn’t_ saying that,” Eddie maintained with a glare. When Flash only shook his head, walking over to the snack aisle, the older man took after him. “What, was your reaction _better_ or something?” he questioned, accusingly.

Flash paused at the family-sized bags of chips. He couldn’t say it was. Any time the symbiote took control, any time Flash was too angry, too unfocused...It was frightening.

‘ _This is hard,_ ’ he thought at the symbiote, reluctant to answer Eddie out loud.

 **_Yes_** , it acknowledged, a warm pulsing reassurance. **_You can say it, Flash. Know I scared you back then._ **

‘ _Yeah, but you don’t scare me now that I know better!_ ’ Flash argued, grimacing.

 **_Eddie knows better, too,_ ** the symbiote insisted. **_Was scary for all of us._ **

Flash looked up at Eddie, who stood impatiently next to him.

**_Wants to talk about it with someone who understands._ **

Who else understood being a host the way Eddie did? The way Flash did? The veteran couldn’t talk to Peter about it. Definitely couldn’t talk to a therapist.

...but Eddie would probably get it, after everything.

“...All the regression completely freaked me out,” Flash admitted quietly. “I still have nightmares.” Internally, he regretted the admission. He was sure his partner knew—that it had picked up on how those losses of control haunted him. Of how the consequences still held him in a chokehold.

Eddie, to Flash’s surprise, immediately relaxed. “...Same here,” he confided.

Flash swallowed thickly. Both of them. Both hosts, both scared and traumatized by the alien partner they hadn’t understood. Both ended up loving it anyway, and ended up being loved in return. Their partner. Their darling. Still loved, despite the atrocities they’d all committed.

‘ _I’m sorry, sweetheart_ ,’ Flash mused.

**_Know we hurt each other, Flash. It’s in the past, now._ **

‘ _But you’re okay with me and Eddie talking about it like this?_ ’ Flash inquired, still uneasy.

“...is it alright?” Eddie asked softly.

The question caught Flash off-guard, not realizing how long it was taking him to answer Eddie’s inquiries. “What?”

“My other,” Eddie clarified. “I’m sure it’s not easy, hearing us admit we’re both still having nightmares from aspects of being Venom.”

 **_Have seen your nightmares_** , the klyntar explained, coiling around the veteran’s spine in an internal hug. **_Can only try to do better, for both of you._ **

“...Wants to do better by both of us,” Flash told Eddie. “But...It’s not your _fault_ , sweetheart—”

A tiny tendril of black poked out of Flash’s collar, to poke his jaw.

**_Will do better. Know we need to improve. All of us, not just you or Eddie._ **

Eddie’s brow furrowed as he watched the tendril. “...None of us knew what we were doing,” he added to Flash’s statement. “None of us knew what you needed to be healthy, and calm.”

Flash regarded the other man with a curious stare. “Especially not you, right?” he huffed.

“Definitely not,” Eddie sighed, rolling his shoulder as he readjusted his grip on the basket. “If I’d had some sort of _manual_ , you would have gotten it by now. Though, at the time, I’m sure I didn’t think I needed one.”

Flash observed the other man for a moment. Eddie seemed a little frustrated, but more so at himself, than with the symbiote. Kinder, too, finally easing up on all the accusations that the symbiote had been lying to him for a decade.

They could just...talk.

“You’re chattier,” Flash noted, a small smile on his lips.

Eddie’s brow furrowed, confused.

“In a conversational way, I mean,” Flash elaborated. “It’s kinda nice.”

The other man fidgeted, looking away, suddenly far more interested in the snacks next to him than the veteran. “Talking to you helps me focus,” he admitted.

“Focus?” Flash repeated, surprised. “Focus on what?”

“On what’s happening,” Eddie continued, idly drawing a hand over a box of crackers, appearing as if he was reading over some of the nutrition facts, though likely not taking in any of the information. “...On what’s in front of me, instead of all the thoughts trying to drown me by trapping me into a spiral.”

 **_He’s noticing,_ ** the symbiote sighed, withdrawing its tendril and flooding Flash’s nerves with relief. **_Can keep himself out of those spirals if he’s catching them sooner._ **

“So, talking to me is helping you get out of your head, huh?” Flash grinned, gently tossing a bag of chips to the other man.

Eddie caught it easily. “Something like that, I guess,” he said, lips quirked up as he put the chips in his basket.

“That’s good,” the veteran grinned. Good, and real progress, if they could keep him from obsessing over the hallucinations. “Don’t want you overthinking everything all the time.”

“Better than not thinking at all,” Eddie countered, smirking.

“Hey!” Flash exclaimed. “I can think plenty!”

Eddie looked surprised for an instant, and then he laughed.

“ _What?_ ” Flash asked, annoyed.

“I was referring to _myself,_ but,” Eddie let out another amused huff, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Wha—” Flash’s mouth dropped open, scandalized. “Wait, so the _one_ time you’re not insulting me—”

“You did it to yourself,” Eddie observed with a chuckle.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Flash groaned, but he couldn’t help but grin a little anyway. Eddie was in better spirits, which put the symbiote in better spirits, which was absolutely contagious as its host. “So, what does that mean? I should be rambling at you all the time if we wanna keep you from driving yourself crazy?”

“God, please don’t,” Eddie groaned in turn. “You talk enough as it is.”

“You just said it helped!” Flash protested.

“It’s _one_ thing that I’ve found helps,” the other man explained, ushering for Flash to continue down the grocery aisle. “Writing it out seems to work, too.”

“Wait, writing it out? Is that what you’re doing on the laptop?” Flash questioned as they walked. “I thought you were doing job applications.”

“I’m doing both,” Eddie elaborated. “I’ve been writing out the basics of what I can remember to look for inconsistencies.”

An actual plan, and one that might even _work_.

So that was why Eddie had been so tied up with the laptop lately. Recording everything he remembered was probably going to take ages. Still, Flash couldn’t help but feel optimistic about it, relieved the other man was starting to seriously take action. All Flash and his partner would have to do now was keep the momentum going.

“So, looking for what’s weird versus what’s normal, yeah?” Flash inquired, taking a turn down the next aisle. There were tons of assorted candy varieties here. Plenty of chocolate, especially. He could feel the symbiote squirm excitedly at the sight, picking up on Flash’s intention.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of what he had been about to say. “...That’s very much a relative question.”

Flash frowned, attempting to select chocolate bars they could get in bulk. “It is?”

“It’s all weird. Everything in my life is weird, when you compare it to an average civilian.”

“Okay, yeah,” Flash admitted with a laugh of his own, reaching out to grab a bar of dark chocolate. “Fair point.”

“Get the ones with nuts in them,” Eddie interrupted, before Flash’s fingers had even touched the packaging.

The veteran paused, looking confusedly to the other man. “Huh?”

“...It likes the ones with nuts better?” Eddie elaborated, looking surprised that Flash hadn’t been aware of that fact.

‘ _You do?_ ’

 **_Yesss_ ** , the symbiote purred. **_Crunchy._ **

Flash snorted, shifting his hand to the nut-filled chocolate bars. “Alright, your call,” he muttered. “...Hang on,” Flash handed the symbiote’s pick out to Eddie. “How did _you_ figure out it needed phenethylamine? The government was providing it for Agent Venom.”

Eddie took the chocolate slowly. “A scientist?” he offered.

“You let a scientist...what, experiment?” Flash asked, unable to conceive of Eddie actually doing so.

“No, he kidnapped us,” Eddie corrected. “Heard him mention I was completely drained of phenethylamine, so the logical conclusion was that my other needed to feed off of that particular chemical.”

Yeah, that was more like it. Flash chuckled awkwardly, grabbing another few bars of chocolate. Not strictly necessary, to buy quite this much, but the symbiote’s pleased rumbling convinced him otherwise. “What the hell were you guys doing that you ended up completely _drained?_ ”

“At the time, I…” Eddie grimaced down at the basket. “I wasn’t really…”

“...doing okay?” Flash finished. It was a safe bet. Eddie was rarely okay, judging from Flash had been able to piece together so far.

Eddie looked to the veteran with a frown. “I was going to say ‘functional,’ but I suppose that works.”

“Do I even _want_ to know what you mean by that?” Flash winced.

**_Wasn’t sleeping. We were living off my metabolism._ **

“...You weren’t _sleeping,_ ” Flash repeated, unable to keep his teacher glare off his face.

“I didn’t know what the consequences would be, alright?” the other man hissed. “I barely needed anything with my other providing for me, and it was fine until…” he trailed off, looking down again.

“Dude,” Flash grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, catching his gaze. “Even with a superpowered symbiote, not _sleeping_ is _bad_. That’s like, basic common sense.”

“I _know,_ but it’s not like I needed much sleep in the first place!”

“You _already_ had bad sleeping habits?” the veteran pressed.

“I was almost always working on _something_ , long before I even _met_ my other!” Eddie explained, exasperated. “I didn’t have the _time_ to waste it _sleeping_ for—”

“You should be getting an average of like, seven or eight hours every night,” Flash pointed out.

“...Seven or _eight_ ,” Eddie repeated with a scoff, the numbers clearly foreign to him. “That’s...I can’t even sleep a few hours straight, most nights.”

“You’re just a goddamn mess of unhealthy habits, huh,” Flash observed with an amused smile, more a statement than an actual question.

Eddie practically pouted. “Shut up, Thompson. Don’t act like you’re better than me at _sleeping._ ”

Flash felt another grin at the edge of his lips. Even irritated, even as annoyed as he may have made Eddie just now, the demand for him to shut up was different, this time. There was no heat behind it.

It was casual. Not an actual demand, but a vague chastisement. Maybe, in time, it could even be a joke.

“No dice, man,” he did grin then, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “You said talking helps. There is _no_ hope of me shutting up now.”

The other man rolled his eyes, gently removing Flash’s hand from his person, biting out a sarcastic, “ _Wonderful."_


	19. Magic Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie determines something about one of the weird memories from Alternate Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of nonsensical shit I have issues with from the Cates run, but honestly, this one might take the cake in terms of “complete lack of character understanding.” Because really, what????

Flash came home one afternoon to find Eddie sitting on the floor, laptop on the coffee table. However, instead of typing away at the keyboard like he usually did, Eddie was still. Silent. Staring into space.

His expression was nothing short of absolute bewilderment.

"You doing okay, man?" Flash asked tentatively, placing his keys on the kitchen counter.

"I…don't know," Eddie answered, looking somewhere between the leg of the coffee table and the floor.

"Memory thing?"

"Yeah, but…" Eddie's eyes narrowed and he turned back to the laptop, muttering to himself, "That can't be right."

 **_Questioning things?_ ** the symbiote asked hopefully.

‘ _Sure sounds promising,_ ’ Flash mused. Any time Eddie started doubting the events from his time with the Maker, the veteran felt just a little bit more relieved. He approached the couch, removing his jacket and tossing it on the furniture, along with the other assorted hoodies and blankets. Then, he maneuvered next to Eddie, to hover curiously over the laptop. “Wanna talk it out?”

Eddie seemed reluctant, for a second, but after a quick glance at his notes he said, “There was a Kree invasion.”

“Always fun,” Flash commented sarcastically.

“I got a magic Venom suit from a warlock,” Eddie continued.

At that, Flash leaned forward, to look Eddie in the eye. “You, uh, you wanna run that by me again?”

“The warlock gave me a magic suit and tried to bind me to do its bidding,” Eddie added, not even looking at Flash as he recalled the hallucinations. “Before it could, I killed it, so I got to keep the suit, and then stole an axe from another Kree, and then I started killing the rest of them,” He paused, face scrunched in a puzzled grimace. “...But then I said ‘ _I_ am Venom,’ which is bullshit.” The mystified man did turn to Flash then, clearly searching for some sort of answer. “That’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

The symbiote extended a small head from Flash’s collar, curious at the question.

“...That definitely _sounds_ like bullshit,” Flash confirmed, quickly becoming as confused as Eddie.

“Right,” Eddie muttered, though the affirmation didn’t seem to comfort him. “I know I have the tendency to spout dramatic witticisms in battle, but that—Why the hell would I say that? I’m not Venom. My other isn’t even Venom, technically speaking; it’s the Venom _symbiote_ , even if everyone calls it Venom as a shorthand,” He looked to the palms of his hands which, like Flash, held no answers. “Venom is _our_ name, together, when we’re one being—You were Agent Venom, because it was the both of you, in tandem—Even _Price_ wasn’t—It would be like saying Kasady, solitarily, could be _Carnage_ ,” he rambled. The man glowered at the notes on the computer, as if the laptop itself was responsible for the perplexed predicament in which he found himself. “I can’t be Venom _alone_ , even with a fucking _magic suit_ —That’s the whole _point_ of Venom!”

Even as irritated as the other man was becoming, Flash ended up biting back a smile.

The symbiote, too, regarded its former host with warmth, vibrating quietly on Flash’s shoulder in a pleased purr.

“It’s _bullshit_ ,” Eddie repeated scornfully. “Why would I ever say that? It’s utter incomprehensible _garbage—_ I would _never_ —”

“Eddie,” Flash said, trying very hard not to laugh.

“ _What?_ ” The other man looked back to Flash, scowling.

“Dude, you lost me at ‘magic venom suit,’” Flash snickered, entirely failing to keep the amusement off his face. “What does that even _mean?_ ”

The question pacified him, somewhat, leading Eddie to glance sheepishly at his notes. “...The warlock let me wish for a weapon and it was the first thing that came to mind,” he explained.

“ _Wow_ ,” Flash laughed. “This is the dog-incident stuff, yeah?”

“Yes,” Eddie grimaced. “It’s really not making sense, the more I compare it to the rest of...everything. I wasn’t even _with_ my other when it happened.”

“So, point for us?” Flash grinned.

Eddie looked at him dubiously, but only briefly, sighing quietly as he slumped against the edge of the couch. “...On this one, definitely,” he conceded. “Some of the others...I could find arguments to support them, to an extent, but this…?”

“Too weird?” Flash prompted.

Eddie held his hands up, frustrated and at a complete loss.

Flash laughed, clapping Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, man. At least there’s _something_ you know for sure didn’t happen.”

Eddie hummed, looking to his symbiote with a tired expression. “This really is a mess, isn’t it,” he observed. “Even knowing this memory is completely off, it’s...The others are still going to take time to sort through.”

The klyntar chittered, sliding down Flash’s arm to nudge and nuzzle Eddie’s jawline. “ **Will wait as long as it takes** ,” it promised.

To Flash’s surprise, Eddie leaned into the touch, sulking as the symbiote snuggled against him, contemplating the laptop.

The veteran smiled a little. “You’re making progress,” he noted. “Even if it seems slow, you’re doing pretty good.”

“ _Abysmally_ slow,” Eddie grumbled, one hand idly scratching along the fabric of his jeans.

“ **Will figure it out, Eddie. Eventually** ,” the symbiote assured, tendrils moving from Flash to wrap around the other man’s fingers.

Mindlessly, unquestioningly, Eddie started fiddling with the symbiote’s mass, rather than his clothes. The action had an immediate effect, with Eddie’s shoulders slumping tiredly as he relaxed.

Flash stared as the other man continued gently stretching and squashing bits of symbiote. “... _That’s_ why you kept doing that,” he realized.

Eddie paused, turning to the veteran. “What?”

“I noticed you kept like, fidgeting with your shirt and stuff,” Flash pointed out, indicating the tendrils intertwined with Eddie’s fingers. “It’s a habit from wearing the symbiote?”

The question earned him a confused blink, before Eddie too looked down at the black mass in his hand. “I guess so,” he commented. “It’s...comforting.”

“ **Like to hold hands. Helps you when you’re anxious** ,” the symbiote chirped proudly.

Eddie contemplated his other, going quiet again. His fingers clenched a little tighter. “...I’m so tired of this,” he muttered.

A bolt of concern lanced through Flash and the symbiote both.

“What do you mean?” Flash asked.

“Being like... _this_ ,” Eddie stated darkly, gesturing to himself with his free hand. “Feeling like I’m half a person. Feeling incomplete.” His jaw clenched as he bit out, “All because I can’t wrap my head around this _nonsense_.”

Flash met the symbiote’s gaze, hesitating before speaking again. “Are you saying you...want to take the symbiote back?”

Eddie brought his legs up, leaning his arms on his knees as he thought about it. “...I _do_ , but I’m—There’s still things I can’t reconcile, yet. I only…” He linked his arms over each other, as if hugging himself. “Being separate like this _hurts_.”

The symbiote gave a little sympathetic keen. Empathetic, really, as Flash could feel the klyntar’s own pain at the separation. It could reach out to Eddie now. Wrap around his hands. Nudge and nuzzle against its former host’s cheek, without reprimand.

Yet still, it wasn’t _enough_.

Much as Flash would love to keep hosting his partner, he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Not with the blatant pining it was unable to hold back, especially as Eddie expressed a wish to bond again. “You’re getting there,” Flash told him. “You gotta keep going.”

Eddie rubbed his hand down his face tiredly, symbiote retreating down his arms. His fingers stopped over his mouth. “...I guess,” he mumbled. “It’s hard to focus anymore,” Eddie said, massaging his eyes.

“Want me to chat at you?” Flash suggested, a teasing grin on his lips.

Eddie grunted in mild annoyance.

“ **Doesn’t want you to, but still thinks it might help anyway,** ” the symbiote interpreted gleefully.

“Oh, you _do_ , huh?” the veteran asked, laughing as the other man groaned.

“Don’t give him _that_ , darling,” Eddie complained. “Jesus.”

“Could tell you about my day,” Flash continued, blatantly ignoring the long-suffering scowl Eddie gave him. “It wasn’t super exciting, though. Kid got a nosebleed during class. Had a going-away party for one of the history teachers.”

“Riveting,” Eddie grumbled sarcastically.

Undeterred, Flash leaned back, thinking of what else happened during the school day. “Let’s see...A fight broke out at lunchtime, but it turned out to be two kids having a _really_ intense dance off, so that was pretty fun.”

“Sounds like a madhouse,” Eddie commented.

Flash grinned at him, happy the other man was actually participating in the conversation, instead of forcing the veteran to really talk _at_ him. “Usually is,” he confirmed. “They’re holding interviews for a new biology teacher. Half the science teachers are already coming up with pranks to make sure whoever gets the job can handle it. And then my—”

“Oh,” Eddie started, shifting straighter he remembered something. “That’s right. I have an interview tomorrow.”

The veteran and symbiote both stared, surprised.

“You—?! Eddie that’s _huge!_ ” Flash cheered. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”

“It’s just a small company,” Eddie frowned, glancing away. “Online magazine. Practically a _blog._ ”

“ **It’s a job!** ” the symbiote insisted happily.

“I haven’t received the actual offer, yet. It’s not that exciting.” Eddie stipulated.

“Gotta disagree with you there, man,” Flash dismissed. “Although,” he grinned cheekily. “You didn’t use Sym as your last name again, did you?”

Eddie’s glare told Flash that he _absolutely_ did.

The veteran laughed.

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled. “I haven’t been able to focus on it anyway. It’s not enough to keep my attention off this,” he gestured to laptop.

Flash contemplated the documented hallucinations, before leaning forward. He saved the document, sure Eddie had already done so, but never hurt to be careful. That done, he shut the lid of the laptop. “Break time,” he told his curious roommate. “If you want something to do in the meantime, you could help me clean up the apartment.”

“Clean it?” Eddie asked, looking around. There were piles of his own clothes, now, arranged neatly by the couch. Flash’s though, were everywhere. Despite the scattered shirts and hoodies, Eddie still looked to the veteran with confusion. “Why?”

“That’s the last big thing that happened today,” the veteran explained. “I got a very last-minute text informing me that we’re gonna have company tomorrow.”

In an instant, Eddie was on edge again. “...Who?”

“Relax, it’s not Pete,” Flash smiled. “My protégé’s coming for a visit. Wouldn’t look great for her coach to have this, uh…” he gestured weakly at his jacket, tossed haphazardly over the top of the couch. “Disaster zone, for an apartment.”

“Protégé?” Eddie questioned.

“Yeah, you met her. Mania,” Flash elaborated. “Well, Andi. Andi’s her actual name.”

“And she won’t be...unnerved, by my presence?” the other man grimaced.

Flash scoffed. “Andi’s got literal demon powers. Not much scares her these days.”


	20. Andi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is, finally, properly introduced to Andi. Flash has only marginal regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEST GIRL IS HERE FOR A VISIT HOORAY this is one of the silliest chapters so far
> 
> Also I remember reading somewhere that Eddie has a degree in English too, but I can’t find a source for the life of me, so at least here we’re gonna say he double-majored because there was overlap in the degree requirements. He just gives off too many English Major vibes.

As the bus pulled up to the sidewalk, Flash felt a giddy wriggling along his arm.

**_It’s here!_ **

‘ _Almost._ ’ Flash smiled, leaning on his cane as he waited for the passengers to get off the bus.

Soon enough, with heavy thunks from platform boots, Andi descended the steps to the sidewalk. She mirrored Flash’s elated expression, extending her arm as she came close. “Coach!”

“Hey, kid!” Flash greeted, pulling her into a hug.

Andi squeezed him one-handed, clutching her bag with the other. After releasing, she grinned at him, and then swiftly punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Hey!” Flash yelled, despite the hit not being very hard at all. “What was that for?!”

“For not moving back to Philly,” Andi explained, raising an eyebrow cheekily as she smirked. “And for almost dying. And for running out of Anti-Venom.” She grinned wider. “But mostly the Philly thing.”

Flash pouted, rubbing his arm for show, entirely uninjured. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been kinda busy lately.”

“Aren’t you retired from your ‘night-job?’” Andi scoffed, doing air-quotes. “How busy can a high school gym teacher get?”

“Surprisingly, very,” Flash answered, returning her smirk. “I’m not _exactly_ retired, either—At least, not when an old friend shows up to throw my schedule outta whack.” He grinned at the girl’s confused expression, and he glanced down at the collar of his jacket.

Andi followed his gaze, only for her eyes to widen as the collar shifted, the inner padding turning black.

A pair of small white eyes blinked into being, squinting into happy crescents.

“Oh my god,” Andi breathed, smile widening. “ _Venom?!_ ”

The symbiote chittered excitedly.

“You came back!” Andi whispered. She looked to Flash. “So, wait, are you...?”

At that Flash bit his lips together, humming before explaining. “Eddie Brock is still technically primary host.” The baffled look his protégé gave him prompted him to elaborate. “It’s complicated. He’s staying with me while we get him sorted out.”

Andi crossed her arms. “And, where is he now?”

“At my apartment, wrapping up an online interview,” Flash shrugged. “Told him he could meet up with us, but only if you’re okay with it.”

The girl regarded him with frustration. “You have _so_ much explaining to do.”

“I know, I know!” Flash conceded. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction he knew would have plenty of cafes. “Let’s just head to lunch, yeah? I’ll sum up along the way.”

Andi rolled her eyes, but allowed the veteran to lead. “You get into so much weird shit without me around.”

“Do I?” Flash questioned, frowning as he thought back. “Pretty sure this has been _less_ weird than some of the stuff we dealt with.”

“It’s very high on the weirdness scale,” Andi countered, gently poking his shoulder. “All the more reason you should move back to Philly.”

The symbiote tittered in Flash’s head as he shot his protégé another frown. “Yeah, yeah,” the veteran sighed. “I hear ya.”

* * *

 

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay with this,” Flash questioned again, at the edge of his seat to allow room for his prosthetics. In his hand, he nursed a chocolate shake, the extra sugary boost not exactly helping the nerves he felt from hoping Eddie and Andi would be civil. Andi he could count on, but Eddie was paranoid on a good day, and he barely knew the girl.

“You said he’s trying to _not_ be a raging asshole anymore, so I wanna see for myself,” Andi shrugged, taking a sip of coffee nearly as black as her lipstick. “Besides, the symbiote’s _my_ friend too. I wanna make sure he’s gonna be taking care of it properly.”

Said symbiote perked up, distracted from its attempts to get Flash to take another sip of the shake. With a chirp, it peeked over the other side of Flash’s collar, down the street from their outside seating area.

Flash looked too, spotting Eddie instantly. The other man was checking his phone, barely glancing up in time to catch Flash waving him over.

Eddie stored his phone in the pocket of his jeans, approaching the cafe.

“Hey…?” Flash greeted, a little surprised at the man’s casual clothing.

Eddie regarded the perplexed greeting with his own expression of confusion. He wore a plain, gray shirt with an open black button up over it. Shirts that they’d snagged from Goodwill, sleeves folded up to just before his elbow. Showed off his arms nicely.

Well, _very_ nicely, but it was nothing fancy.

“What’s the gawking for, Thompson?” Eddie asked.

“You wore that for the interview?” Flash questioned, tearing his eyes away from Eddie’s arms to look at the man’s face.

“It’s not like I have a suit,” Eddie frowned, pulling up a chair that sat a little closer to Flash than Andi. “They said not to wear business clothes, anyway.” He turned to the girl across from him, a little tense as he commented, “You must be Andi.”

“Andi, Mania, whichever works,” Andi shrugged, studying Eddie with a suspicious gaze. “Coach tells me you’re trying to make amends.”

“...Yes,” Eddie stated, locked into what may as well have been a staring contest.

“Even about the Toxin shit?” Andi asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“ _Toxin?_ ” Eddie scowled. “What are you—?” he was cut off as Flash elbowed his arm.

“It was Andi’s school,” Flash noted. “She was there.”

Eddie, thankfully, looked taken aback by the information, turning back to the girl with a chastised expression. “...Yes,” he answered. “I’m...sorry about that.” At another, gentler elbow nudge and an encouraging smile from Flash, he begrudgingly added, “I put you and your friends in danger. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Andi raised her eyebrows. “Wow,” she laughed, smiling at Flash. “I dunno what you did, Coach, but I like this development.”

“He’s getting there,” Flash observed, grinning at the other man. “Slowly but surely, yeah?”

Eddie turned his head away from the veteran with a scoff.

Flash was worried he’d upset the other man somehow, until the symbiote chittered, **_Embarrassed him._ **

Now that his partner had pointed it out, Flash could see a light dusting of pink along Eddie’s cheeks. As the other man frowned, petulant, Flash smirked a little. ‘ _Huh. Cute.’_

“Nice to see you making an effort, at least,” Andi commented, relaxing. “Although, obviously, I do have to make sure you stay in line.”

“Stay in _line?_ ” Eddie repeated, brows furrowed as he looked at the girl.

“You hurt my coach, or our mutual friend,” Andi started, leaning forward. Her eyes instantaneously went a bright, burning orange, the hint of her hellmark flaring to life on her chest. Flames flickered at the ends of her eyelashes as she hissed, “You get burnt to _cinders_.”

Flash swore he saw Eddie scoot his chair back a little, but if the man was scared, he certainly didn’t show it.

In an instant, Andi’s hellmark vanished, and her eyes returned to a clear blue as she smiled smugly. “Got it?”

“...Got it,” Eddie confirmed.

“Good.” Andi took a casual sip of her coffee.

Flash looked awkwardly between the pair of them. ‘ _He’s okay, right?_ ’ he asked the symbiote. ‘ _We don’t have to worry about him deciding Andi’s his new nemesis now, do we?’_

The symbiote’s small head poked over Flash’s collar, hissing quietly until it got Eddie’s attention.

The other man bit the inside of his lip, suppressing a smile at the sight of his other, like a tiny little snake, scenting the air with its tongue.

 **_He’s fine_** , the klyntar confirmed, resuming its efforts to nudge Flash’s hand closer to the chocolate shake on the table. **_Might have been spooked, a little_ **.

Flash sat a little taller, proud of his protégé. Then he remembered he shouldn’t be enjoying Eddie being scared into submission, so he turned to the other man with what he hoped was a casual look of curiosity. “How’d the interview go?” he asked, relenting and taking a sip of the shake.

“Fine,” Eddie answered noncommittally.

“...That’s it? Just fine?” Flash questioned.

“Did you _get_ the job?” Andi added.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, uncomfortable with the sudden interrogation. “They said they’d be in contact soon,” he elaborated.

“So, a solid ‘maybe,’” Flash clarified. “If you get it, we can celebrate.”

The other man’s brow furrowed at him. “Celebrate?”

“You didn’t celebrate with me when I got a job,” Andi noted, eyeing Flash disdainfully over the rim of her cup.

“You were in Philadelphia!” Flash argued.

“Right, like you should be,” Andi stated, sipping her coffee.

Flash frowned.

“Just saying, you don’t _write_ , you don’t _call,_ I had to find out _after_ you nearly died that you _nearly died_ ,” Andi continued with a glare.

“You’re starting to sound like my mother,” Flash scolded.

“Maybe your mom’s on to something,” Andi countered. “At the very least, would it kill you to call me for help instead of _after_ something almost kills you?”

Eddie, who had been watching the exchange with a quiet interest, turned to Flash. “You’re beginning to sound like a pretty terrible mentor.”

“I am _not!_ ” the veteran glowered at him, only to be drowned out by Andi bursting into laughter. “Hey!”

“Says the guy who ran off to _space_ right after I became his protégé,” Andi snapped back, still snickering.

“I’m—Stop laughing!” the veteran scolded his mentee.

 **_Has a point, Flash,_ ** the symbiote chimed in.

Flash glared at his jacket collar. “If you’re gonna turn against me, too, I’m not drinking any more of this shake,” he threatened. It was a weak threat, since the shake itself was both pricey and delicious, and he didn’t _really_ want to waste it. Still, the betrayal couldn’t go unchallenged.

His partner, still small and snakelike, stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. It looked to the side, seeming to check if they were being watched.

Coast clear, the symbiote whipped out of Flash’s jacket, consuming the entire plastic cup and its chocolatey contents in one gulp.

The trio of humans stared at the empty space in surprised silence, the symbiote zipping back into Flash’s clothes, as if it were never there.

Andi was the first to start laughing, immediately followed by Eddie. Flash, on the other hand, was absolutely scandalized. “You could have bit my _hand_ off!” he complained.

**_Wouldn’t do that! Was being careful!_ **

“I was _enjoying_ that!” Flash added.

Eddie and Andi, of no help whatsoever, only laughed harder.

* * *

 

It was a long day spent catching up with Andi, but a fun one, Flash’s protégé only offering gentle jabs at how the apartment was clean, ‘for once.’ Flash was relieved to find that after their initial meeting, Eddie was reasonably calm around the girl. He might even go as far as saying Eddie enjoyed her company, if their bond over making fun of Flash was any indication.

The downside of this, of course, was that they were making fun of Flash.

“I mean, you’d think by now you would know who my nemeses are, Coach,” Andi teased.

Flash groaned. “You have _nemeses_ ,” he repeated. “ _Plural_.” He sighed as they walked. “Can we please talk about something else? How’s school going? A good mentor asks about school, right?”

Andi scoffed, but backed off on the teasing, mercifully. “Everything’s great, unless you count the eight-page paper I have to write for a Shakespeare play I haven’t read yet.”

Eddie seemed to perk up as the group slowed to a halt at the bus stop. “Which play?”

“ _Henry IV, Part 1,_ ” Andi provided with a grimace, leaning on a supporting beam of the bus shelter as she sulked. “It’s a total pain.”   
  
“Sorry, kid,” Flash smiled in sympathy. “That old English stuff always destroyed my GPA.”

“Shakespeare isn’t old English; it’s Elizabethan,” Eddie corrected.

The veteran stared openly at the other man. “Am I supposed to know the difference?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s entirely different. Besides, Shakespeare plays aren’t that difficult to read.”

“I vehemently disagree,” Andi moped.

“ _Henry VI_ should be perfectly entertaining,” Eddie continued, now directing his frown at the girl. “It’s one of the plays with Falstaff, so it’s comprised of...what, at least half dick jokes? There’s a lot of double entendre.”

Flash and Andi’s eyes widened.

“It’s half _what?_ ” Flash questioned.

“Dick jokes,” Eddie repeated. “Shakespeare’s plays are full of them. You just have to know where to look, since the pronunciations have changed for most of the repartee.”

Andi appeared to be revived by the newfound information. “I’m gonna write my paper about the dick jokes.”

“Andi, _no_ ,” Flash scolded.

“Andi _yes!_ ” she beamed triumphantly.

“Fuck’s sake,” Flash sighed. He directed an accusatory glare at Eddie, despite the amusement he could feel radiating off the symbiote. “If she fails this paper, it’s your fault.”

“She’ll be fine,” Eddie scoffed, smirking. “As long as she supports her argument with viable sources—and there should be at least a dozen research papers on the subject to choose from. Probably more.”

“How do you even _know_ this stuff?” Flash asked. “If I’d known about that in high school I would’ve been way more interested in _Romeo and Juliet_.”

“I have a degree in English, along with Journalism,” the other man shrugged. “I likely had to read a lot more plays than you did.”

 **_Loves reading,_ ** the symbiote pointed out. **_Talks your ear off if you get him started on the author’s diction_ **.

‘ _...The author’s dick-tion?_ ’ Flash countered, trying not to smile and failing miserably.

He felt a rumbling rebuke from his partner for the pun, as it squirmed around his stomach.

‘ _I’m telling that one to Eddie once I get him talking about it,_ ’ Flash decided, enjoying the annoyance the symbiote felt at the prospect of having to hear the pun again.

“Eddie, give me your number so I can bug you with English questions,” Andi demanded.

The man complied, handing over his phone for her to set up the contact information, amused at Flash’s immediate disapproval.

“You never ask _me_ for help with school!” the veteran complained.

“Coach, by your own admission, your grades _sucked_ ,” Andi observed, texting herself with Eddie’s phone. “I’d like to at least pass. Besides,” she grinned like a cheshire cat at Eddie. “Now I can keep track of you, too.”

Eddie blinked in surprise, numbly taking his phone back. After a moment, he huffed a laugh. “Touché, kid.”

“If you behave, it really will mostly be questions for school stuff,” the girl assured him. She hefted her bag onto her shoulder, spotting the bus turning around the corner. “Looks like my ride’s here,” she observed.

 **_Already?_ ** the symbiote whined.

“We’re gonna miss you,” Flash told her, holding his arm out for a hug.

Andi embraced him immediately, giggling as the symbiote snuck out of his jacket to nuzzle against her cheek. “It was good to see you,” she smiled, ending the hug with a tap to the tip of the symbiote. “You stay safe, bud.”

The klyntar gave a little chirp.

Andi turned to Eddie as the bus pulled up. “Hope you get your head sorted out. This new you is a lot easier to get along with.”

Eddie kept his hands in his pockets. “It was nice meeting you, properly,” he commented.

Andi grinned. “Just remember, no hurting Coach or our mutual friend, or—”

“—You’ll burn me to a crisp,” Eddie finished with a smirk. “I got it.”

The girl gave Flash one last light punch to the shoulder before boarding the bus.

“Hey! _Andi!_ ”

“Come back to Philly!” she ordered, waving before disappearing inside.

Flash rubbed his arm with a scowl. As the bus departed, his expression softened, watching forlornly as the vehicle drove further and further away.

 **_Miss her already_** , his partner sulked.

“Yeah,” Flash sighed. “Maybe I _should_ move back. She was more insistent than she used to be. Makes me wonder if something’s up.”

“She seems capable enough,” Eddie noted, watching along with him.

“Yeah, but much as she jokes, I _am_ her mentor, even if I’m bad at it,” Flash frowned. “I should be watching out for her. That’s hard to do from New York.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, and then looked to Flash with an amused expression. “She’s more intimidating than you. She’ll be fine.”

“What?” Flash questioned, grimacing at the other man. “More—? I’m super intimidating!”

Eddie snorted, grinning. “Hardly. Andi can back up her threats with literal hellfire. You’re too much of a pretty boy to pull it off.”

“Wha— _Pretty boy?!_ ” Flash snapped, his face instantly feeling like a furnace. At Eddie’s laughter, though, he relaxed.

 **_Messing with you_** , the symbiote observed, warmth in its tone. **_Teasing._ **

“Yeah, okay _bookworm_ ,” Flash grumbled, walking past Eddie to start heading home. When Eddie only continued to snicker, the veteran felt amused in spite of himself.

He gave Eddie’s arm a shove, smiling harder as Eddie lost his balance for a second and laughed again.


	21. Dylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finally addresses one of the Big Incidents of the Alternate Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m vaguely aware there’s new info about Dylan being a codex or something because apparently “was born” is not complicated enough, so I’m ignoring that and sticking to the initial “Dylan exists because Symbiote+Anne, somehow.” 
> 
> Nothing against Dylan personally, tbh, just wish he actually was Eddie’s little brother instead, and that he was in the hands of a better writer. Unfortunately none of that fits with this AU.
> 
> Anyway, I’VE BEEN DREADING ADDRESSING THIS BIT OF THE RUN SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE FIC, EYYYYYY HERE WE GO *tosses confetti*

Flash Thompson was a menace.

He was the worst kind of person. Eddie didn’t know how he could have ever thought the veteran was even _remotely_ better than him, after such a display of callousness.

“Get it?” the aforementioned insolent, discourteous human-half of Agent Venom grinned, knowing damn well exactly what he’d done. He was _proud_ of it, even, of the insult he’d caused. The _audacity_.

“Yes,” Eddie deadpanned the veteran as he sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. “Dick-tion. I heard you.”

Flash cackled from the couch cushions, victorious.

“That’s all you wanted?” Eddie glowered at the younger man. “ _That’s_ why you were trying to get me to say ‘diction?’”

“Yep,” the veteran confirmed, laughing again as the symbiote directed several tendril pokes to his side, as punishment.

“How dare you,” Eddie accused, though without any bite to his words. He was too preoccupied with fighting to keep a smile off his lips as his other toppled Flash, the veteran letting out a yelp as the symbiote hit somewhere ticklish.

“I give, I give, I’m sorry!” Flash shouted, still snickering as the symbiote retreated. He grinned at Eddie. “It wasn’t _that_ bad. I think you two are overreacting.”

“It was atrocious,” the other man countered. “I’m not overlooking the fact that you used my love of the written word to assault my ears with _puns_ , either. It’s practically criminal.”

Flash laid along the couch cushions, still perfectly pleased with himself. “Partner said you _liked_ wordplay. So, there you go.”

“Puns like that are the wordplay of the woefully uninspired,” Eddie scoffed.

“They’re funny, though!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, opting to ignore the veteran’s argument in favor of checking his email on the laptop. He’d barely used the new account, and still, already so much _spam_. He frowned as he scrolled through, fingers slowing on the touchpad as he spotted a name he recognized.

One of the jobs he’d applied to.

Over his shoulder, Flash strained to get a look at what Eddie was frowning at. “Everything okay?”

Eddie grunted unsurely in answer, taking a breath before opening the email, scanning through for keywords rather than subjecting himself to the malarkey that was business writing.

_Mr. Sym,_

_We are pleased to inform you…_

_...agreed upon rate…_

_...start this Monday—_

“Eddie?”

“I got it,” Eddie stated, feeling Flash shift again. “I got the job.”

“Holy shit!” Flash exclaimed, clapping a hand on the other man’s back. “That’s awesome!” He leaned forward, arms on his lap as he tried to catch Eddie’s eye. “What do you wanna do to celebrate?”

Eddie drew his gaze away from the email, furrowing his brow at the veteran. “It’s not...I told you, it’s just a tiny magazine. It’s not like it has any prestige.”

Flash shrugged off the remark. “And? It’s a job. This is great news. We should celebrate.” The symbiote, peering over his shoulder, chittered in agreement.

Eddie hesitated, relief at finding work at odds with a dozen competing thoughts.

This job meant he would have money, for this reality.

But, it could be a distraction to keep him off-guard, even if he hoped it wasn’t.

...but, when was the last time he really _celebrated_ , anyway? He could remember taking his other out to dinner, but that was for them. For their renewed bond. Certainly not for something as unimpressive as the job he’d just landed.

The symbiote’s curious chirp caught his attention.

“Do you wanna order out, or something?” Flash offered. “I could cook, but it’s not like I know your favorite meal or anything. We could buy ingredients if it’s not too expensive, though.”

Eddie looked away from veteran, at the suggestion. A favorite meal. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked anything like that for him. He wasn’t sure he really _had_ one anymore, spending so long using food as basic fuel. Spending so long without a kitchen. Everything was takeout, or microwaved, or scavenged.

Those meals were nothing like Flash’s cooking. His meals were simple, but filling. Healthy. Warm.

“...Pilaf,” Eddie muttered.

Flash wore a curious expression. “Pilaf?”

“The one you brought for lunch, once,” Eddie clarified. “That, but fresh. That’s enough.”

“Wait, you mean the pity pilaf?” Flash huffed a laugh as he recalled the dish.

Eddie could feel his cheeks heating up, and he waved his hand as if he could banish the memory. “If you don’t want to, I don’t care,” he declared, trying and failing to focus on the laptop again to get the particulars for his new employment. “It doesn’t matter.”

The symbiote let out a short whine, though Eddie could tell it wasn’t quite directed at him.

“It _does_ ,” Flash insisted. “I can cook a pilaf for you. It’s no trouble.” The veteran slumped against the back of the couch. “I’m just surprised that’s what you want. It’s usually what I make with leftover ingredients—Not really _special,_ y’know?”

“It’s fine,” Eddie stated, wishing now that he’d picked something else, if only to get the questioning to end. “I don’t want anything special.”

“Why not?” Flash asked.

Eddie spared a glance at the veteran, expecting to see Flash frustrated at the firm denials. Instead, he found the veteran watching him with a concerned frown. He tore his eyes away almost instantly, abhorring the ache he felt in his chest at the look.

“Eddie?”

The older man sighed through his nose, looking at the laptop screen again. He minimized the email, gaze immediately drawn to the shortcut he’d made for the document of memories he’d recorded.

Many of those memories were still plaguing him.

He didn’t feel up to celebrating. Things had been going well lately. Almost _too_ well. He could relax. Enjoy things. Joke around.

And yet, here on the computer sat this file of horrors, claws still sunk into his psyche.

How could he celebrate if there was still the gnawing feeling in his soul that none of this was real?

How could he celebrate if he’d really left California in the middle of a crisis?

How could he leave a _child_ behind?

“Eddie,” Flash interrupted the man’s musings. “Talk to me, man.”

“...It feels wrong,” Eddie admitted quietly. “I’m still not...I still can’t make sense of everything, and if _any_ part of what happened in California was real, then…” He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head, looking up at the veteran.

“Is there something specific bugging you?” Flash asked. “You wanna talk it out?”

“ **Can address it, if it’s worrying you so much** ,” the symbiote added, hovering just to the side of the hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

If he were truly honest, Eddie would tell them he wanted to give up on the issues still haunting him. Box them up tight, shove them into the furthest reaches of his mind, and go back to pretending everything was fine. He was doing better. He could get along with Flash most of the time. His darling was hurting less. He could _touch_ the symbiote again, finding comfort and warmth in its concern.

...and still, that whisper was in the back of his head, that his other had lied.

“I don’t want to,” Eddie blurted out, feeling the edges of those dark thoughts creeping right back in again. Of Anne. Of the symbiote. Of Dylan.

“We don’t have to,” Flash assured him as he dropped his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t want to pressure you, but you’re getting that kinda glassy look in your eye again.”

Eddie looked up at him, eyes narrowed in askance.

“You kinda drift off a little when that stuff’s messing with you,” Flash informed him, frowning.

“ **Want to help catch you before you spiral** ,” the symbiote noted, gently nudging Eddie’s arm. “ **Want to resolve the inconsistencies, but don’t want you feeling even worse.** ”

Eddie looked from his other to Flash, both waiting for him to make the first move. Both patient.

‘ _If this was a trick, they wouldn’t want me thinking about California, at all,_ ’ Eddie realized. Because, how would that make sense? To have made this much progress while shoving aside the memories that scared him the most—If this were a trick from his other, it would insist he ignore those memories, wouldn’t it? Focus on it, alone, on their bond, on being together again and nothing else.

And yet, here was his love, not pressuring, having promised over and over to _wait_. Encouraging him to talk, even though they both knew it wouldn’t like hearing about the events, either.

“...Dylan,” Eddie uttered to the symbiote. “Dylan’s what’s bothering me.”

The symbiote’s eyes widened in recognition, the name hurled at it in fury so many times.

“There’s still things I can’t reconcile,” Eddie continued, fingers clenching into nervous fists. “About Anne, and my cancer, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Flash urged, holding a hand out to stop him. “We’ll tackle everything one at a time, alright? How’s that sound?”

Eddie stared at the veteran. At the patience he was displaying, now seeming far more comfortable with addressing the nightmares. “...Okay,” Eddie whispered.

“Great,” Flash smiled, and then looked a bit sheepish. “So, uh...Who’s Dylan?”

“My kid,” Eddie explained.

Flash stared silently, just for a moment, and then shut his eyes, opening them again as though he was the one trying to wake up from a fever dream. “Your _what?_ ” he asked, gawking at the other man.

“My son,” Eddie clarified.

“You, Eddie Brock, have a _child_ ,” Flash stated, disbelieving. “...You mean like, a spawn?”

“ _No_ ,” Eddie growled defensively. “A _human_ kid. Anne’s and mine.”

“Your—Hang on,” Flash flailed. “Anne is your ex-wife, yeah?” At the symbiote’s confirming trill, he continued. “And Anne is...where?”

“...She’s dead,” Eddie answered, biting his tongue on the flood of feelings that came with the words. “Suicide.”

Flash, having found himself out of his depth, sucked in a breath. “Okay. Okay, but you’re saying she had Dylan...When was this?”

The question prompted Eddie to look to his other. It had borne the brunt of his ire when he’d found out about Dylan. About all the lies. Kept insisting it didn’t know what he was talking about. That it hadn’t lied, but the Maker had. That Dylan didn’t, _couldn’t_ exist.

After all, the only way Dylan could exist would be the symbiote’s actions, with Anne. As She-Venom.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted, brow furrowing at his other. “You would, though.”

The klyntar looked reluctant, but it held Eddie’s gaze. “... **Only ever tried to protect Anne** ,” it maintained. “ **Would never hurt her on purpose. Conceiving would have hurt her.** ”

“I’m still missing something,” Flash bemoaned, leaning on his hand. “Back up, please.”

“Anne left me before we became Venom,” Eddie explained. “We tried to win her back. Sometimes we had to fight to keep her out of danger, and a part of that was my other bonding to her. They became She-Venom.”

Flash still looked perplexed. “So, what, you two got back together around then and had Dylan?”

“No, it...I don’t know how it would have happened,” Eddie continued with an aggravated sigh. “Somehow, my other bonding to her made her conceive, she gave birth in secret, and handed off our son to my _father_.”

The veteran was quiet as he regarded Eddie. He looked to the symbiote. Then again to Eddie. “Symbiotes can make human babies now?”

“I told you I didn’t know how it worked!” Eddie snapped. “My other would’ve had to keep all this shit from me for a _decade!_ ”

“Wait, so _Anne_ didn’t tell you she gave birth to _your_ son?” Flash questioned.

“ **Would have told you, if Dylan existed,** ” the symbiote insisted. “ **She would have, as would I.** ”

Eddie scoffed at it. “ _You_ would’ve told me,” he repeated, disbelieving.

“ **Why would I keep your child from you?** ” the symbiote whined. “ **Wanted to protect Anne, because** **_you_ ** **did. Cared about her because** **_you_ ** **did. Wanted us to all be** **_together._** ”

“Did you, or did you want me all to yourself?” Eddie interrogated. “You wanted us to stay bonded, didn’t you? A child would draw my priorities away from—”

“ **How?!** ” his other snapped. “ **Know you would have loved Anne’s child! Know you would have protected your son! Would have wanted to do that** **_with_ ** **you! Could have shifted priorities—** ”

“Our goal was to kill Spider-Man! How could we do that with a _child—_ ”

“ **You were happy with Anne!** ” the symbiote cried. “ **Wanted you to be happy! Wanted** **_love!_** **”**

“Hey, _hey_ , easy,” Flash shushed the symbiote, reaching for it, attempting to calm it down. “It’s okay. We’re just talking this out, alright?”

The klyntar deflated somewhat, looking sadly at the floor. “ **...would have helped** ,” it added in a small voice. “ **Would have wanted to help. Only wanted to help my host.** ”

Eddie regarded it with concern.

...It _did_ want its host to be happy. With any host. Not just Eddie. That was why they’d bonded—Spider-Man _rejected_ it, despite all its attempts to prove itself. All its attempts to help.

Attempts that it replicated with Eddie, trying to take care of them both, even at its own detriment. Even when it didn’t know how. Even when Eddie’s own mistakes and faults drove it to literal insanity.

Even now, with all the times Eddie had lashed out, had tried to _kill_ it, it wanted him to get better. To be healthy, and happy.

“...So, we know that the symbiote wouldn’t hide a kid from you, right?” Flash prompted tentatively.

“...Yes,” Eddie agreed, ultimately. “I’m sorry, love.” He didn’t know what he would have done, if he’d known about Dylan’s birth. He definitely wouldn’t have given his son away to his _father_ , of all people.

...So then, why would Anne?

“You okay?” Flash asked. “Goin’ glassy-eyed on me again.”

Eddie grimaced. “...Anne had Dylan, and then gave him to my father,” he explained, though even as he said the words, they felt wrong. Anne had heard his rants and raging about what a pompous ass his father had been. How he’d abused Eddie.

His dad hit him all the time, why would Anne—?

Eddie felt a pang in his head, reaching up to run his fingers over hair that felt too long.

His father never laid a hand on him, did he?

But he remembered, after the car crash when he was a kid, his father yelling, his dad punching him in the police station—

“ _Eddie_ ,” he heard Flash just before the veteran shook his shoulder. “Hey, answer me. Are you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, but he focused on the sight of the veteran again. On his other. Their twin looks of concern. “Head hurts,” he said weakly.

“Take it easy,” Flash told him, rubbing his hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “Doesn’t sound like that was sitting right with you. Do you know why?”

Eddie tried again, focusing on Flash. On the basics. “Anne never wanted kids in the first place,” he recalled. “She wanted to focus on her career.”

“Okay, well that’s a point against her keeping Dylan, no matter how he was conceived,” Flash thought aloud.

“She...We were _divorced_ and she’d rejected me more completely than anyone else could have,” Eddie continued, his heart feeling like it was bleeding as he kept going. “She wouldn’t...Even if...Why would she…?”

“ **Breathe, Eddie** ,” his other reminded him gently.

“Even if she _did_ keep Dylan, she wouldn’t—She wouldn’t give him to my _father_ ,” he nearly spat the word. “She would know how much that would hurt me—Even when she rejected me, she’d never be that _cruel_.”

It didn’t make sense.

Anne would never keep his child. Not at that point in their lives. She would have never kept anything to do with the symbiote, scarred as she was by being bonded to it. Even if, for some unfathomable reason, she had, how could she keep quiet? She rejected Eddie, but she knew _everything_ about him. About how much he _loved_ her. How much he would have loved their _child._

As much as that rejection destroyed him, he knew her, too. She hadn’t split from him to hurt him. She’d done it because she felt she had to. She didn’t have a cruel bone in her body.

Even if she did, somehow, conceive, she would never subject their son to the pain and heartache she knew Carl Brock would inflict.

She would know, in excruciating detail, what Carl Brock had done to Eddie. How much it hurt him. How he was never enough. How Dylan, if he existed, could never, ever find the love he would need from that heartless bastard.

Anne would never do that to her son.

Anne would never do that to _Eddie_.

“It’s wrong,” Eddie breathed.

“...What?” Flash asked, hesitant, disbelieving, like he thought he hadn’t heard properly.

“ **What’s wrong?** ” the symbiote questioned.

“Everything about her pregnancy. About where Dylan was for ten years,” Eddie elaborated, eyes hard. He met Flash’s gaze, noticing the veteran’s surprised relief at something in his own expression. Then, he met the symbiote’s, his other chittering curiously. “Nothing matches up,” Eddie stated. “You were _right,_ love.”


	22. Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discussions about the Alternate Reality continue, plus Peter is kinda helpful sometimes, actually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I absolutely abhor Spectacular Spider-Man: The Hunger? Yes. Am I going to cherry pick from it to try to make some damn sense out of all these continuity mishaps? Also yes.
> 
> Additionally I’m a doofus and wrote that the Maker shit went down in California. It didn’t! It was New York, and then they ran to Cali to get away! God dammit. Anyway I’ve done a smidge of editing, so we’ll just pretend that’s totally how it used to be and it definitely went down in New York, and I totally paid attention and did not have to rewrite half this chapter three days before posting (it’s fine I like this version much better than what I had hfaskdflkfj). ANYWAY HERE WE GO

Eddie caught a look of concern from Flash, briefly, as the symbiote shot toward Eddie, knocking him onto the floor. Eddie yelped in surprise—a noise that melted into laughter, warm and adoring as the klynar held and nuzzled against him.

“ **Eddie!** ” it cried. “ ** _Eddie!_** _”_

“You’re going to crush me if you squeeze that hard!” Eddie told it, hardly caring as his arms bent awkwardly, pinned by his other’s writhing mass.

Flash’s shoulders slumped with relief, smiling at the pair. “That one’s settled, then, huh?”

Eddie struggled to sit up, both assisted and hindered by his other’s tendrils insistently clinging onto every bit of him they could reach. When he managed to get upright, he huffed a “Yes,” to Flash, leaning into the symbiote’s head with his own. “Anne would never. _You_ would never,” he told it gently. “I’m sorry, darling...”

“ **Drugs, Eddie, wasn’t** **_you_** _,_ ” it insisted, squeezing tight, its eyes tiny slivers of white as it pressed against him.

Eddie let his eyes shut, content as he was held. It felt like a huge weight, a _shackle_ had finally been removed. When he opened his eyes again, he looked fondly at his darling, chittering and chirping in its own delight.

When he looked at Flash, though, the veteran appeared troubled.

“You alright?” Eddie asked.

Flash startled a little, possibly realizing he’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve in that moment. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. “I’m happy for you guys, really.”

“... **But you’re sad** ,” the symbiote noticed, picking up the veteran’s feelings through their bond.

Eddie frowned curiously at Flash as the veteran deflated, looking a little ashamed at being caught. It was odd behavior, considering. With this issue settled, they may have destroyed one of the biggest barriers keeping Venom separate.

With that thought, Eddie realized just what was upsetting the other host.

“I’m guessing you’re gonna want to take it back,” Flash told Eddie, confirming that the journalist had guessed correctly.

Eddie directed a contemplative stare at the veteran. He could take his other back. With his realization about Dylan, there seemed little reason for the symbiote to have act as it had in the other memories. The manipulation didn’t make sense, anymore. It might not hurt him so much to have his other bonded to him again, and it may not hurt the symbiote as much to deal with those leftover memories still stuck, unexplained.

The pain on Flash’s face was plain now, though, at the idea of giving back the symbiote.

‘ _He really loves it_ ,’ Eddie realized. He should have known. The feeling was blatantly obvious with how much Flash openly cared about his partner’s wellbeing.

Eddie tried to think quickly, of what was still plaguing his psyche. If those warranted keeping his other safe, still, with Flash. Only two came to mind, twisted and mixed up.

“Eddie?” Flash prompted, looking a little worried at the other man’s silence.

“...I still have a couple memories out of line,” Eddie admitted.

“ **Which?** ” the symbiote inquired with an annoyed hiss.

“My cancer. And a car accident that keeps fucking me up, for some reason.” The journalist grimaced as he thought of them, his other’s tendrils loosening.

“Did you just say your _cancer?_ ” Flash repeated, aghast.

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, only to be cut off by the ringtone of Flash’s phone.

Flash grabbed the device from his pocket irritably, paling when he saw the caller ID. He looked uneasily at Eddie, but eventually caved. Clearing his throat before he picked up, he greeted, “Hey, Pete.”

Eddie and the symbiote flinched.

“What’s up?” Flash asked after Parker answered, his friend’s words a garble to Eddie from here. Flash hummed at something.

Eddie swallowed, nervous. Flash told him that Parker was searching for a therapist. So, it was either good news, and he’d be getting more help, or the bastard was breaking his word.

Again.

“...Say that one more time,” Flash said, his expression one of growing confusion. “I heard like, half of it, and I don’t—” He paused listening, before his gaze flicked nervously to Eddie and the symbiote again. “...Right,” he muttered. Then, he held his phone out to Eddie. “He wants to talk to you.”

Eddie, with symbiotic tendrils looped protectively over his shoulders, made no move to take the phone. “What?”

Flash shrugged, concern on his features, but not enough to deter him from getting Eddie to talk to Parker. “He said he needs info on the Maker?”

Eddie contemplated the phone for a moment, taking it from Flash. WIth a glance to his other, he hit the speaker button. “What do you want?”

“ _Hey,_ Parker greeted, entirely unconcerned with audible suspicion in Eddie’s tone. _“What do you remember about when you were actually with the Maker?_ ”

“...Not much,” Eddie admitted, frowning as he thought back. “A sort of interrogation room, I think. A warehouse, maybe.”

“ _Ah, a warehouse; explains everything,”_ Parker said, sarcasm in every syllable. _"Very helpful, thanks.”_

“What does it matter to you?” Eddie snapped.

“ _Well, I thought I’d try to track him down and end his nefarious plans of...Whatever he’s up to. Giving you a really bad drug trip, I guess. But if you don’t remember anything, I’m stuck.”_

“You…” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, along with Flash’s, in confusion. “Wait, why are _you_ trying to stop him?”

 _“Whatever gets you out of Flash’s apartment faster,”_ Parker explained, as though the answer were obvious, missing his friend leaning back in his wheelchair with an impatient roll of his eyes. _“Plus, I’m not about to let a supervillain include Venom in his schemes around my own hometown. You sure you don’t remember anything about him? What about after you got away?”_

“There were people chasing us down, so we tried to hightail it to California,” Eddie recalled. “Project Oversight, or something. He said he worked for them.”

 _“Oversight, huh…”_ Parker mumbled, the line going quiet as he thought.

“Do you think he chased you guys all the way to California?” Flash piped up. “Is he even in New York anymore?”

Eddie crossed his arms, pensive. He couldn’t remember clearly. He knew they ran. He knew that he thought, at the time, that his symbiote was brain-dead, and that they needed help.

So, logically, he ran to his dad and—

No.

No?

 _‘No,’_ Eddie thought, cold fear gripping his chest. That wasn’t right. Couldn’t possibly be right. He turned to his other’s small face in askance, horrified by the question he was about to ask. “Did I try to take us to see my father?”

The symbiote sank against him in slouch of sheer relief. “ **You tried. Was why I turned us around** ,” it told him. It nudged its head in Flash’s direction. “ **Why I brought us to Flash, instead.** ”

“Wait,” Flash looked to the symbiote in turn, grimacing. “Out of all the crazy shit that happened with dog-reality, going to see Eddie’s _dad_ was the last straw?”

“ **Would be like you going to** **_your_ ** **father for help** ,” it explained.

Eddie waited for his other to elaborate, but Flash apparently didn’t need anymore than that, wincing. The veteran looked down to the phone in Eddie’s hand with a scowl. “You think the Maker accounted for Venom backtracking, Pete?”

_“Hard to say. The places I’ve checked were cleared out. I’d say chances are good he went after Venom, but he might’ve lost the trail when they doubled back.”_

“Places you’ve—? How are you even finding spots he might have made into his hideout?” Eddie questioned.

 _“It’s very hard to rummage around the New York underbelly without_ somebody _hearing about it, especially if he’s got the crazy scientist schtick going,”_ Parker explained glibly. _“He’d need supplies and space for experiments, and I happen to have a wide web of science-y contacts.”_

Flash snorted, smirking at Eddie expectantly.  
  
Eddie directed his ire at the pun to the veteran across from him, despite addressing Parker as he said, “I really didn’t think it was possible to hate you more, but somehow, I’ve managed it.”

 _“If we’re counting outside my friendly little neighborhood, it’d be a world wide web,”_ Parker persisted.

Flash choked on a laugh, hiding it behind his hand as Eddie glowered at the phone. “Okay, okay,” Flash started, clearing his throat. “Pete, get back on track before you give Eddie an aneurysm.”

 _“That’s all I have so far, really,”_ Parker sighed. _“I’ll keep an eye out for anything that might be related, but it sounds like the Maker packed up shop and relocated to California.”_

“Good news for us, though,” Flash acknowledged. “We don’t need any of these ‘Project Oversight’ creeps lurking around while we’re trying to get Eddie’s memories back in order.”

 _“Yeah, how’s that going, by the way?”_ Parker asked.

Eddie scowled, uneasy even as his other wound around his fingers with reassurance. Talking with Flash about the memories was one thing. Flash listened. Let Eddie work through it. He didn’t expect that kind of patience from Parker.

“You said we have like, two big snags left, right?” Flash frowned at Eddie. “The car crash and the cancer?”

_“Wait, cancer? You don’t remember your cancer?!”_

Predictable. Eddie inwardly braced himself for the incoming accusations. “I _remember_ it,” he assured Parker, glaring at the phone. “It might have been a _falsification_ , is the—”

 _“Me having to trap the symbiote with you so it would keep you from_ dying _was not_ fake _, Eddie.”_

Eddie’s eyes widened. “I don’t remember tha _—_ ”

 _“You were unconscious by then,”_ Parker stated. _“Pretty much dead already. That bout of cancer got so bad you weren’t even talking the way you normally do.”_

“...and how is it that I _normally_ speak, pray tell?” Eddie asked, looking very much like he already expected to dislike the answer.

_“Pretentiously.”_

“And where was I during all this shit?” Flash interrupted.

 _“In a coma,”_ Parker answered.

Flash sighed in exasperation, resting his chin on his fist. “Well, that answers my next question of why I didn’t hear about it.” The veteran turned to Eddie, a pleading frown on his face. “What happened?”

Another glance at his other told Eddie that the symbiote felt guilty. From the way it drooped, and didn’t meet his eyes, and said nothing to elucidate the situation. “Adrenal cancer,” he told Flash. “The overproduction of adrenaline drove my other insane.”

 _“I’ll say,”_ Parker commented.

“Pete,” Flash started, his tone alone a warning.

 _“It was!”_ Parker insisted. _“Look, whatever happened to you, Eddie, you don’t get to decide what I did or didn’t have to deal with.”_

“I’m saying the symbiote might have _made_ the damn cancer!” Eddie shot back.

 _“Oh, sure,”_ Parker drawled, and Eddie had no doubt the man was rolling his eyes on the other end. _“Yeah, killing you off would’ve been a great scheme to jump to me. That makes perfect sense.”_

“Alright, _cool_ it,” Flash interjected.

 _“Easy for you to say,”_ Parker groused. _“You’re not the one who nearly got taken over by a rampaging symbiote trying to save this asshole’s life.”_

Eddie grimaced, not sure what to make of the information. He had cancer. He remembered telling Spider-Man—telling Parker as much. Remembered bits and pieces of their conversation, trying to explain that he needed help. That his other was menacing him, and yet also the only thing still keeping him alive.

A paranoid part of him still fretted the reason was its manipulation, but the end result didn’t fit anymore. It couldn’t have been to keep him from finding out about Dylan. It knew back then, that he needed it to live. It kept him hanging by a thread, dependent, poisoning itself in its efforts to keep him, only to…

...jump to _Parker?_

His brow furrowed. Why bother trying to keep Eddie dependent if it hadn’t been planning to also keep him as its host? Unless, it _didn’t_ make the cancer, and it fed off all the adrenaline like it would any other chemical, only to knock them both out of balance.

The symbiote was watching him now, doleful. Worried. Its tendrils remained wrapped around him, tense, like it wanted to hold tighter but wasn’t sure if it was allowed to anymore.

Eddie’s heart broke at the sight of it, fingers clenching to rub gently over the black mass stretched over his hands. “Love…”

 _“...Flash, please tell me he’s talking to the symbiote and not you,”_ Parker pleaded.

“Chill, Pete,” Flash sighed.

“Do you remember any of that?” Eddie asked his other.

“... **some,** ” it admitted in a small voice. “ **Mostly...rage. And hunger.** ”

_“Convenient.”_

“If you’re gonna keep it up with the peanut gallery, I’m gonna hang up,” Flash snapped at Parker.

 _“What? It is!”_ Parker protested. _“You don’t think it’s a little convenient that it just doesn’t_ remember _leaving Eddie to die?”_

“ **...remember hurting you,** ” the symbiote admitted softly, barely a hiss, too light for the phone to pick up. “ **Remember dragging you around, and leaving you alone.** ” It continued to keep its eyes from meeting Eddie’s, but it couldn’t seem to help itself from leaning its head gingerly against his collarbone. “ **Don’t want to hurt you, Eddie** ,” it promised with a whine. “ **Don’t want to do anything like that, ever again. I’m sorry.** ”

Across from Eddie, Flash himself looked pained, expression tight, as if trying to fight off whatever was threatening to show on his face. His eyes though, when he looked to Eddie, were pleading.

Eddie stared back at the veteran, at green eyes that were shining a little too bright.

_“...are you guys still there?”_

“Yeah, Pete,” Flash answered mechanically. “Our mutual friend is just...having a lot of feelings, right now.”

_“What does that even mean?”_

“It means ‘Shut-up, Parker,’” Eddie stated, looking down to his anguished other.

It met his gaze this time, lifting its head, but making no move to leave him. Clinging to him, but cowering, like it hoped he wouldn’t change his mind and tell it to go.

 _“Why are you telling_ me _to shut up?”_ Parker questioned. _“I’m trying to figure out what the Maker did to you so we can reverse it faster and you can go home!”_

Eddie ignored him. The Maker said the symbiote created the cancer. That he was full of it, because his other wanted to keep him weak. That it was manipulation, to keep him dependent, and that it had done this before.

...But then, why would it want to jump to _Spider-Man?_

Why insist on leaving him? Why drive _itself_ insane with adrenaline? Why stabilize and try to go _back_ to Eddie, only to make Anti-Venom?

Why create this wonderful bond with Flash in the meantime, love him, be loved in return, only to leave and go back to Eddie? Only to give Eddie cancer _again_ , to force him to stay when he already _wanted_ to?

Why?

_Why?_

‘ _It doesn’t make sense_ ,’ Eddie thought. None of it made sense. Nothing added up right. On the surface, all the memories from California _felt_ real. _Were_ real, if he didn’t try to fit it with the rest of his life. Like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. After everything he’d been through, as Venom, as Anti-Venom, as Toxin or as just himself, it didn’t _fit_ with what he knew for certain.

As his symbiote caught his attention again, eyes drooping with concern, Eddie felt something click. Round peg. Round hole.

The Maker told him the symbiote created the cancer.

The Maker was full of it.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie stated.

_“What?”_

“Kill...who, exactly?” Flash asked tentatively.

“The Maker,” Eddie growled, hands moving to protectively pull his other closer. “I’m gonna kill _the Maker._ ”


	23. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's still one stupid disconnect from the Alternate Reality that Eddie want to solve. Doing so is going to take a bit more help from Flash than the veteran ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I have no excuses for this upcoming plotline beyond I *really* want them to deal with Eddie's actual family

The room was quiet at Eddie’s declaration, neither Flash nor the symbiote quite knowing how to respond.

“ _Sounds like you’re back to normal, Brock_ ,” Peter piped up. “ _Does this mean he can leave now?_ ”

Flash answered with a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. “Pete, I’m gonna hang up.”

“ _What? Isn’t that what this means?_ ”

“You find that therapist, yet?” Flash countered, scowling as the line went quiet again. “Yeah, you do that. I’ll text you later.” He took his phone back from Eddie, who seemed more than willing to hand over the device in favor of another free hand to clutch his confused symbiote. Flash hung up before Peter could protest again, looking to Eddie.

The other man was fuming, not looking at Flash, but holding the symbiote as if he could shield it from the horrors the Maker had subjected them to.

Flash could feel a burgeoning hope, across the bond, as the klyntar snuggled up into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Was he right?” Flash asked. “Are you okay now?”

“ _No_ , I’m not okay!” Eddie snapped. “That Reed Richards impersonator _bastard_ made me believe my other gave me _cancer!”_

The veteran’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Okay, yeah,” he acknowledged, unable to help the grin spreading across his face, buffered by his partner’s joy. “But at least you sound like _you_ again.”

Eddie grunted, leaning forward to clutch his head.

“ **Eddie?** ” the symbiote questioned, squirming a little in his grip, trying to get a better look at its other.

“My head feels like it’s going to _split_ ,” Eddie hissed, a hand poised to keep his skull together.

“Aftereffect from the drugs, maybe?” Flash guessed, approaching and placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Eddie didn’t push him off. Seemed totally fine with the gesture, in fact. Flash smiled sympathetically. “Is that...Did we cover everything?”

Eddie sighed. “All of the big inconsistencies, except…” He lifted his head a little, eyes squinting in pain as he looked through his fingers. “Except that fucking car accident.”

“What car accident?” Flash pressed, hoping they could keep up this momentum. They figured everything else out. A car accident sounded like a breeze in comparison to all the other nonsense Eddie hallucinated.

“ **Childhood accident?** ” the symbiote inquired, breaking free of the hold to face Eddie.

“Is that when it was?” Eddie asked it, hand instantly reaching for his other again, cupping the side of its head.

“ **Yes** ,” it rumbled, leaning into the journalist’s touch. “ **You were a child. Got hit by a car.** ”

“Then, why do I remember driving?” Eddie questioned. “Why do I remember being drunk and hitting a kid?”

Flash felt his heart stop at the admission, eyes widening at the other man. “You...Did you?”

“ **Never happened** ,” the symbiote denied with a glare. “ **Must be from the drugs.** ”

Eddie only seemed to marginally relax with that answer. “Why would the Maker bother with something like that? It’s not like it had anything to do with you, darling.”

Flash sighed through his nose. On the one hand, not being drunk and hitting a child was a definite plus. However, even with the conclusion on what really happened, he found himself perplexed at both the alternate memory, and at Eddie’s distress. “Does it really matter at this point? You know what really happened with the symbiote, now.”

Eddie regarded the veteran with a contemplative grimace. “It does to me,” he stated. “It’s nothing to do with my other, but it would...It’s more that the accident changes innate aspects of what I know of _myself._ ”

“ **Could check for proof in California** ,” the symbiote suggested. “ **Could look around for records after we hunt down the Maker.** ”

“Maybe don’t actually go kill the Maker,” Flash counter-suggested, worried. “You’re trying to get better. Going to jail for murder isn’t exactly gonna help you.”

“We could punch him, at least,” Eddie said.

Flash snorted. “Yeah, in theory, that would be better than outright murder.”

Eddie managed a smirk.

Flash felt a little better, seeing the expression, but worry still clenched his heart. He knew his time as host was over, now that Eddie knew for sure he’d been hallucinating. He didn’t want it to be over. Didn’t want to hear the confirmation that he would have to give up his partner.

But, the symbiote felt so _happy_.

Flash swallowed thickly. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Go to California, check for proof about the car accident,” Eddie stated.

“You want to do that first?” Flash questioned, surprised. “Woulda thought getting the hard part over with and fighting the Maker would be first on the list.”

“Another altercation with the Maker wouldn’t be the hard part,” Eddie explained. “Not now that we know his angle. He was trying to separate us, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Flash frowned, in agreement but still confused. “But...why?”

“Of that, I’m less certain,” Eddie grimaced, thinking. “I’m also not sure if he was only trying to make me _think_ you were dead, or if he actually believes it.”

“Well, Agent Anti-Venom is dead,” Flash shrugged. “You said he showed you _my_ grave, though, right?”

“Right,” Eddie nodded, covering his mouth with his hand as he thought. “...since Venom escaped, he’ll be expecting us to come back bonded.” The journalist eyed his other, longing blatantly obvious in his expression as he rubbed his thumb between the symbiote’s eyes. Jaw set, he turned back to Flash. “How much time off can you get from work?”

“Not much, but I think I have a week or so saved up,” Flash answered, curious at the question. “Why?”

“I want you to come with us to California,” Eddie told him. “As Agent Venom.”

Flash gawked at the other man, certain he’d heard wrong.

“We could throw him off, if you’re there,” Eddie continued. “He wouldn’t expect us to be working together, let alone that you have my symbiote.”

“ **Not rebonding right now?** ” the symbiote asked.

“Once we’re bonded again, my love, I’ll never give you back,” Eddie told the klyntar, as it pressed up against his cheek. “A little longer of a wait is...It’s agony, really, but if it gives us a chance to take the Maker down…”

“You’re serious?” Flash choked. “You seriously want me to come with you?”

Eddie met the veteran’s gaze a little nervously. Hesitantly. “Having you there would help me keep focused, no matter what that bastard tries,” he explained. “Will you?”

The veteran could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You, Eddie Brock, are _asking_ me to help you,” he huffed a laugh. “That’s actually what’s happening.”

Eddie frowned, looking more reluctant by the second. And yet, he muttered a very quiet, “Yes.”

Flash stared at him. At the fear mixed with hope in those clear, blue eyes. Eddie didn’t ask for help. Not like this. Not from _Flash_. He’d _demand_ assistance when he wanted it, not sit by Flash’s couch with a look on his face like he was genuinely fearful that Flash would say no.

He couldn’t say no.

He promised.

“Of course I will,” Flash told Eddie, determined. “I’ve got your back.”

With that, the tension around Eddie loosened up, and he sighed. “We had a maid, when I was a child—Around the same time, I think.”

“ **Ms. Dempsey** ,” the symbiote provided.

Eddie nodded. “We could look for her contact information. I’m sure she’d know something about the accident.”

“In the phone book?” Flash asked. “What, we’re gonna call every Dempsey in California?”

“No, I…” Eddie trailed off, scowling again. “The easiest method would be searching through my father’s contacts. Even if she isn’t under his employ anymore, I’m sure the records are somewhere in the house.”

“ **Going...there?** ” the symbiote questioned, tendrils wrapping tight around Eddie’s hand. “ **Eddie…** ”

Flash regarded his partner with concern. “Something bad waiting at the house?”

“With our luck, my father,” Eddie grit his teeth. “I swore I’d never go back there, but I can’t think of any more obvious proof of what my life was like during that period. Even if I never wanted to see that callous bastard’s face again. Even hallucinating it was too much.”

Flash watched Eddie fume at the mere mention of his father, even if the journalist was the one to bring him up in the first place. The reaction felt familiar. Intensely so. “...Sounds like that’s another thing we have in common,” he observed.

“What’s that?” Eddie asked, drawn a little out of his self-inflicted ire.

“Bad relationship with our dads,” Flash smirked. “Could add yours to the list of people in Cali that we’re gonna punch in the face.”

Eddie bit back a smirk of his own, unable to stop an amused scoff. “We could,” he acknowledged.

“It’ll be fine,” Flash assured him, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “If things start to go bad, you have back up this time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Eddie mumbled. His eyes flicked from Flash’s hand, to his other, only to meet the veteran’s gaze again. “Thank you, Flash. For...everything.”

Flash’s lips parted at the words.

Eddie Brock. _Thanking_ him. Genuinely. Not just for some one-off favor, or a meal, but actually acknowledging _all_ the help. Acknowledging that he was _grateful_ for it.

“Andi was right,” Flash laughed. “You are _way_ easier to get along with, now.”

Eddie frowned, looking away again.

“ **Be nice, Flash** ,” the symbiote chided.

“I know, I know,” the veteran chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m just kinda surprised.” He moved forward, a little closer, and then held his arms out. “C’mere, man.”

“...Really?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.

“Yeah, really! C’mon.” He took Eddie’s arm, moving it to make way for him to hug the surprised journalist. “I may have helped, but you put the work in too. You did good.” Flash thumped his hand on Eddie’s back, the way he used to embrace his teammates back when he played football.

The difference between then and now was that Eddie really hugged him back.

No clap on the back, either. Eddie didn’t pull the veteran very close, but his hold was firm as his arms wrapped around Flash. “...Thanks,” Eddie said again, voice a quiet mumble.

They stayed like that for longer than Flash initially expected the hug to last. He figured a few seconds, maybe, if he was lucky. Instead, Eddie had leaned forward, head nearly resting on Flash’s shoulder.

The symbiote didn’t help matters, tendrils extending from Flash to Eddie, tying them together.

Flash huffed a little, shifting their shoulders and finding them covered in ropes of symbiote. “...Are we stuck? Did I just trap us both?”

“I think so,” Eddie laughed a little, hands bound by black.

“ **Group hug** ,” the symbiote insisted, squeezing the both of them. “ **No moving.** ”

“That’s not how group hugs work, love,” Eddie scolded. “Let us out.”

“ **It’s how they work now!** ”

“Okay, when we get _out_ of this, _then_ we figure out how to get to California and go punch the Maker in the face,” Flash planned. “Sound good?”

“Sounds fine, if _someone_ will let me get _up_ ,” Eddie suggested.

“ **Five more minutes** ,” the symbiote stipulated, giving both men another squeeze.


	24. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is off to California

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyvm to FelinaLain for reminding me that both of these ridiculous men masqueraded as nuns

Finding a bus line that would bring them all the way across the country wasn’t the hard part. The hard part, Flash realized, was that it was going to take multipledays.

Multiple days, in buses and motels, with a pining symbiote and Eddie Brock.

If you’d asked him a couple months ago, Flash might have scoffed at the very _idea_ of having Eddie Brock sitting next to him on a bus. Now, though, he didn’t much mind that the seats were so small, their arms were touching. It was sort of nice, actually, Eddie’s arm pleasantly cool compared to Flash’s own, symbiote-fueled heat.

They sat in the back of the bus, which was, thankfully, fairly uncrowded. The symbiote was acting as Flash’s legs, the veteran loathe to pack his prosthetics when their purpose of going would be to work as Agent Venom.

Flash looked up from his phone, starting to grow bored of checking the same series of apps again and again. He found Eddie to be asleep, or near it, head back and eyes shut, even as the bus jumped from a pothole. 

‘ _Don’t know how he can sleep like that,_ ’ Flash thought, a little envious.

_**Not asleep**_ , the symbiote corrected, directing Flash’s attention to Eddie’s tightly crossed arms. _**Too anxious.**_

Anxious. That wouldn’t be good. Not for anything they planned to do in California. Flash nearly nudged the other man, intending to get Eddie’s attention off whatever spiral hell his thoughts were circling around now, when the bus began to slow. He opted to look out the window instead, finding that they’d arrived at a truck stop.

“The bus will be waiting here for twenty minutes,” the driver helpfully announced. “Take this opportunity to use the facilities.

Flash stood, soon followed by Eddie, wide awake, just as the symbiote said.

The older man was quiet, even as they bought some food for lunch. They sat down on a bench, Eddie immediately occupying himself with a hot dog.

“You doin’ okay?” Flash asked him. “Partner says you’re nervous.”

Eddie sighed through his nose, swallowing. “It would be correct.”

“About the Maker?” Flash questioned, though even as he said it, he knew he’d guessed wrong.

“No,” Eddie said, looking toward the bus with a stare that was a million miles away.

“Dad stuff,” the veteran determined, earning a tired nod for his efforts. 

“In one set of memories, he’s a distant, cold, incomprehensible shell of a man,” Eddie described, grimacing. “In the others, he’d beat compliance into me every chance he got.”

Flash’s fingers tightened on his soda can. “What?”

_**Hallucinations were physical abuse. Real father ignored him.** _

The input only somewhat eased Flash’s nerves. “...Partner says the real deal was the first one.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, eating a little more before scoffing. “That almost…” he trailed off with a frown, contemplating.

“Eddie,” Flash prompted.

The other man looked to him in askance. 

“Get it outta your head, man,” Flash told him. “We need you thinking straight once we get there.”

Eddie grunted, which Flash took to mean he knew that already, and he slumped. “...it almost feels worse, knowing that,” he admitted quietly. “At least with the physical shit I would have had bruises to point to and say, ‘Look, there’s the proof I was abused. That’s what’s wrong with me.’”

“Bruises heal, and there are tons of ways to hide the worst of it,” Flash stated knowingly. Knowingly enough that Eddie seemed to recall just who he was talking to, and had the decency to look ashamed.

“...I’m sorry.”

Flash willed himself to relax. This conversation was about Eddie’s dad. Not his. His particular asshole of a father was dead, unlike the man they were on their way to meet. The veteran started on his own food, eating mechanically. “So, you’re nervous about talking to a guy that didn’t bother to talk to you?” he asked, attempting to get the subject back on track.

_**Neglected Eddie** , _the symbiote elaborated.

Flash’s eyes narrowed. “Neglected?” 

“That is a more fitting description,” Eddie noted. “At least, in terms of emotional neglect.”

“...You wanna talk about it?” Flash asked hesitantly, unsure now if dredging up the real memories would help or hurt.

Eddie hesitated, but relented as a thin, barely visible tendril extended to coil between his fingers. “...He mostly ignored me,” Eddie recalled. “Likely wished I didn’t exist, in retrospect. I could count on the house being stocked with food, and having clothes and my basic education needs paid for, but…” his brow furrowed. “It seemed like he was doing it out of a sense of obligation. Maintaining appearances. He wouldn’t show up if he didn’t deem it strictly necessary to keeping up the charade of your average parent.”

Suddenly, the clip the symbiote had shown to Flash made sense. Eddie had won his match. Should have been proud. Should have looked into the crowd of parents to find his own cheering him on.

“He never went to your wrestling matches,” Flash blurted out.

Eddie scoffed. “Of course he didn’t. Doing so would require more than the absolute bareminimum of effort.”

Flash knew then, why the hurt he felt in that memory felt so familiar. The drowning pride.

After a game, Flash would look at the crowd and, on the rare occasion he saw his father in the stands, feel a yawning hole of dread open up in the pit of his stomach. 

Eddie would look at the crowd and feel something similar, each time he looked and saw everyone else’s parents, knowing, dreading the confirmation of his own father’s absence.

They weren’t the same. Of course not. 

But both stung. Both hurt. Both fathers had haunted the two men well into their adulthood, an unconscious driving force behind their every decision.

“...Nothing I did was enough,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself. “I could come home with straight As every semester. Every _quarter_. I could bring home more trophies than I could _carry_ , and it wasn’t enough to get him to _look_ at me.” His eyes narrowed, expression pained, and angry. “He would change the subject whenever I talked to him—switch to something he needed done, or some cursory advisory that he would be away on a business trip and I needed to make sure the maid got her paycheck. He never cared about what I said.”

Flash didn’t want to think about his own family, in comparison, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help remembering all the times he’d come home, victorious, elated at how well he’d done as a quarterback, only for his dad to snap at him about his grades, uninterested in Flash’s achievements. Only interested in his failings. In the ways that he, too, was never going to be good enough. 

The veteran could feel the symbiote spread over his shoulders, a comforting pressure.

“...I haven’t seen my father since he finally disowned me, a decade ago,” Eddie mumbled.

“Yeah, okay,” Flash winced. “Kinda get why you’re nervous, now.”

_**Don’t have to stay long**_ , his partner reminded him.

“We’ll be quick,” Flash reassured. “In and out. Get this shit settled once and for all with minimal dad involvement.”

Eddie did smirk then. “It’s mostly settled,” he told Flash. “I only...I think I _should_ see the house, so there’s not even the slightest chance of doubt.” He ran his thumb across his fingers. Over the symbiote tied around them. “...I’d like to be able to move on from all this, properly.”

Flash regarded the other man with a contemplative stare. The statement, the wish, really, was leaps and bounds away from the Eddie he’d known years ago. Even months ago. Significant change, and major progress. 

“What are you smiling at?” Eddie asked then.

Flash grinned, lightly punching Eddie’s arm. “That was probably the healthiest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he pointed out. “You’ve come a long fucking way, man. Proud of you.”

Eddie stilled at the words, only to look away, clearing his throat, cheeks a little pink. “...Thanks, Flash.”

_**People are getting back on the bus**_ , the symbiote pointed out.

“Oh, we gotta get going,” Flash said, tugging a little on Eddie’s arm to get him up. 

Back on the bus, the pair settled back into their seats. 

Eddie looked listlessly out the window, still ill at ease.

Flash frowned. ‘ _That didn’t help much, huh._ ’

_**Needs distraction**_ , his partner informed him. _**Going to keep thinking about it, otherwise.**_

Flash put his phone in his symbiotic-jacket pocket, crossing his arms as he looked at the journalist. “Wanna compare weird host stories?” he suggested. “Bet mine could beat yours.”

Eddie’s attention was successfully grabbed, and his brow furrowed confusedly at the veteran. “What?”

“It’ll pass the time,” Flash encouraged. “Like, once there was some group of thugs we took down while dressed as a nun. The Mother Superior of Punishment.”

Eddie looked unimpressed. “So?”

“C’mon, like _you_ ’ _ve_ dressed up as a nun for—”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed. “We have.”

Flash stared at the other man, open-mouthed.

“Impersonating clergy is on the tame side of strange host experiences,” Eddie smirked.

“Okay,” Flash relented, a little. “Okay, fair, but we bonded to a _car_.”

“We’ve bonded to a t-rex,” Eddie countered.

“What the _fu—?_ You did not,” Flash argued.

_**We did**_ , the symbiote rumbled, amused.

“We could visit the dinosaur people we saved at the time, if you’d like proof,” Eddie continued, entertained by Flash’s disbelief.

Flash let out a laugh, scooting in his seat to face the other man. He matched Eddie’s smirk, fired up, and _very_ ready to out-do Venom’s old track record of _weird_. To his and the symbiote’s relief, they had Eddie’s full attention, a competitive glint in his eyes.

‘ _This is gonna be fun._ ’


	25. Road Trip (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team stops at a motel for the night and Flash realizes...something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live and die by the "there was only one bed" trope. Also, Flash is an oblivious dumbass, but we all knew that already, right?

“...and she was, technically, not really a panda,” Flash described begrudgingly. “I really put my foot in my mouth, with that one.” At the scoff from Eddie, he put on his best innocent face, grinning as Eddie’s eyes pointedly flicked to Flash’s symbiotic feet.

“... _Really,_ ” Eddie groused, knowing perfectly well that the feet currently tapping on the floor of the bus were the symbiote.

Flash and symbiote wiggled the toes of their boots.

Eddie snorted, looking away and trying not to laugh, failing miserably in the effort. “Go to hell, Thompson.”

“Been there, done that,” Flash shot back. “Wouldn’t really recommend it as like, a vacation spot. Very unwelcoming.” He grinned wider, as the comments coaxed another laugh out of the other man.

“God dammit,” Eddie muttered, snickering.

“Already taken care of, man! Pretty sure I must’ve been damned a _long_ time ago, considering the Hell stint.”

“How are you able to joke about that?” Eddie questioned, marveling at the veteran. “From the way you’ve described it, the whole experience sounds horrifying.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Flash agreed. “But like, how do you even bring that up to a therapist who isn’t in the superpower biz? ‘I once went to Hell and met Mephisto, who then revived me because he wanted my alien buddy to become the next potential king of Hell?’ They’d throw me in a psych ward.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in one?” Eddie asked.

“Hey, if anything, _all_ of us belong in a psych ward,” Flash argued, gesturing between himself and Eddie. “Or undergoing massive amounts of therapy, at least.”

The journalist acknowledged the point with a cant of his head. “Fair enough. At least you’d make better company than Kasady.”

“ _Aww_ ,” Flash brought a hand to his chest. “That’s so nice of you.”

“... _Is_ it?” Eddie questioned.

Flash thought about it for a second before his eyes narrowed. “That’s actually the _lowest_ bar, huh.”

Eddie grinned much the same as Flash had earlier, as innocently as possible.

“Jackass!” Flash laughed, enjoying the happy chittering of the symbiote in his head, as Eddie laughed along with them.

* * *

At the end of their bus’s route, Flash, Eddie, and the symbiote tracked down a cheap motel where they could get some sleep before their next ride. They were all exhausted. All ready for bed. The trip had been easy so far, but long, and Flash was looking forward to clambering into a somewhat horizontal space and passing out.

Life, however, had decided to stop being quite so simple.

“You’re _sure_ there’s nothing else,” Flash asked the front desk clerk.

“A single’s all I got,” the woman confirmed, looking very much done with Flash’s pestering. “The rest need cleaning, and housekeeping’s not coming until six tomorrow.”

“Is there a couch in the room?” Eddie inquired. “Or a chair, maybe?”

“It’s got a chair,” the clerk answered.

“We’ll take it,” Eddie decided.

Flash turned to him with a grimace. “Eddie—”

“What? I can sleep on the chair,” Eddie shrugged. He took the room key from the woman, nodding in thanks.

She scowled at the two of them. “Good night.”

Flash thanked her sheepishly, following Eddie, who had already started walking in the direction of the rooms. When he caught up with the other man, he nudged Eddie in the arm. “Seriously? You’re not sleeping on a chair.”

“I’ve slept in places far less comfortable than a cheap motel chair. It’s fine,” Eddie told him, finding their room and opening the door.

The room itself was certainly nothing special. Full size bed, covered in the thinnest possible comforter, reminding Flash of his Army days. An ancient tv directly across from it, with no remote control in sight. A sad-looking pot of flowers, obviously fake and covered in dust.

In the corner sat the most uncomfortable-looking fabric chair Flash had ever seen. It was probably pink, at some point, but now it was a faded, dirty gray.

Flash directed an annoyed look to the other man as he casually walked over to the chair, dropping the backpack he’d borrowed next to it. “You’re not sleeping on that,” Flash declared.

Eddie paused, looking from the chair to Flash with confusion. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I have my partner to knock me out,” Flash explained, just as the symbiote unraveled the collar of his jacket to peer at Eddie. “You take the bed.”

“We’ve lived in a sewer,” Eddie scoffed. “This is hardly the worst place I’ve slept in.”

‘ _Please tell me he’s fucking joking_ ,’ Flash begged.

 _ **He’s not**_ , his partner replied.

“Nope. Nope, you get the bed tonight,” Flash decided, moving to grab Eddie’s backpack and toss it on top of the comforter.

“But you’re the one paying for the—”

“You’re taking the bed!” Flash told him. “You need to sleep, too!”

Eddie glared at the veteran, but when it became clear that Flash was not backing down, he rolled his eyes. “If you _insist_. I’m going to take a shower.”

As Eddie shut the door to the bathroom, Flash sat down in the chair, finding exactly the severe lack of cushioning he’d expected. He turned to the symbiote with a sigh, knowing he was going to have to rely on it heavily if he wanted to get any semblance of rest. What Eddie had admitted was bugging him, too, and he couldn’t help but ask, “You guys seriously lived in a sewer?”

“ **Wasn’t as bad as it sounds** ,” the klyntar assured him. “ **Had a bed. Privacy. Weight set.** ”

Flash snorted. “Of course you guys had a fucking _weight set_ in the _sewer_.” In retrospect, he wasn’t even all that surprised. Eddie was ripped. Even while underweight, he was sheer _muscle_. Flash wondered idly what kind of ridiculous regimen the other man must have undertaken to wind up with his physique.

With what he knew of Eddie now, he guessed it probably wasn’t a healthy one.

They heard the squeaks of knobs being turned, and then the rush of water as Eddie turned on the shower.

“ **Nice of you to take the chair** ,” the symbiote rumbled, eyes happy little crescents as it regarded Flash.

“Yeah, well,” Flash rubbed the back of his neck. “...Guy’s been sleeping on a couch for months. I can survive sleeping on a chair for a night.”

“ **Like seeing you two get along better** ,” his partner purred, curling itself up by Flash’s chin.

Flash smiled, petting along the length of the symbiote. “Nice to finally be able to,” he chuckled. He slumped down and relaxed. Or tried to, shifting uncomfortably until he decided he would just sit normally for now, contemplating the trip as Eddie showered.

They _could_ get along now. That fact had to be the most bizarre thing Flash had come to learn. He and Eddie could get along, and joke, and reminisce about _funny_ things, not just the horrors of their lives. Granted, they were on their way to one such horror. They would have to be careful about the Maker, but Flash was growing more confident that Eddie would be able to handle himself, this time around. He knew where he was, _when_ he was, and even _listened_ to Flash’s input. Eddie was in a much better place than when they’d first run into the Maker.

Plus, this time, he had Agent Venom as his backup.

There was a level of respect between them now that Flash had once thought impossible. An easiness. Comfortable, long lulls in between what used to be daily arguments. An odd sort of peace in their truce, in the apartment, with Eddie living as Flash’s roommate.

Of course, the whole roommate situation wouldn’t last much longer.

Flash found himself frowning as he continued to pet the symbiote, contemplating as it continued to purr, zoned out and unaware of its host's musings.

He didn’t want to give his partner back. He didn’t have Anti-Venom anymore, to compensate for the benefits he was going to lose—No more perfectly matched legs, no more web-slinging, no more comforting, friendly voice in his head to talk things through. No shared feelings of love, and trust, to reassure him, or course-correct him for losing sight of what mattered.

Sure, he had those things _now_ , and he’d have them until they all completed this mission and went back to New York, but then…

...what _then?_

The sound of the shower faded as Flash mulled over possibilities. Of Peter declaring he couldn’t find a therapist for Eddie, and pressuring Flash to kick him out again. Of Eddie giving up on getting better, taking the symbiote and leaving for good. Of all his effort, of all these attempts at just a basic _friendship_ with Eddie being all for naught.

Because that was what they had now, wasn’t it? They were friends. He and Eddie were friends, and they could get along. Even if Eddie took the symbiote back, he’d still let Flash _see_ it. Talk to it. Talk to Eddie, himself.

It was at that moment that Flash realized: he didn’t actually want _Eddie_ to leave, either.

Flash’s hand stilled on the symbiote, and it made a curious noise, questioning why the affection had stopped. Flash could feel his partner nudging through his thoughts retroactively, mirroring the stuttering halt of mental question marks he found himself up against.

He wanted _Eddie_ to stay with him, not just the symbiote. Unsure what to make of the feeling, Flash’s brow furrowed, just as the water shut off in the bathroom.

Within moments, the door opened, and Eddie came out wearing nothing but a threadbare towel. “Goddamn clothes,” he grumbled, making his way to the bed, water dripping off him.

Flash barely heard him, too focused on the sudden sight of a nearly naked Eddie Brock.

Eddie had been edgy about not wearing clothes around Flash. At least, during the time he didn’t have the symbiote. It had seemed a little weird, considering the journalist’s track record, but Flash hadn’t really questioned it.

Now, he found himself staring as the man dug through his backpack. At strong, built triceps, barely diminished from his time crashing at the apartment. Eddie looked healthier. Like a powerhouse. Flash eyes followed the curve of his spine, mouth feeling dry. The towel hung low. Low enough that Flash could see the enticing v of Eddie’s hips. He swallowed quickly as Eddie turned, clothes in hand, watching as the other man walked back into the bathroom, vehemently ignoring the wild urge to take Eddie by the wrist and pull him close enough to touch.

The symbiote chittered questioningly as Flash slumped, feeling almost like he’d stood up too fast, despite never moving from the chair.

‘ _What the fuck_ ,’ Flash thought.

They were friends. Eddie was handsome, objectively. Flash could admit that. Strong jaw. Pretty blue eyes. Muscular. Broad shoulders. Biceps you wanted to squeeze. Abs that Flash wanted to run his hands down and—

‘ _What the_ fuck _,_ ’ Flash repeated to himself, dragging his hands over his face, feeling his cheeks burning. He breathed deeply, trying to will his rapidly beating heart to slow down.

“ **Flash?** ”

“Oh my god,” Flash muttered, quietly as he could, so Eddie wouldn’t hear. “Fuck. This isn’t happening.” Another curious trill from the symbiote had the veteran looking through his fingers. “That was you, right?”

“ **... _what_ was?**” the symbiote asked.

“That—Those feelings!” Flash hissed at it. “When I was looking at Eddie! Those were your feelings, right?!”

The symbiote’s head tilted to the side. “ **You mean the attraction?** ”

“Yes!”

“ **Those were yours,** ” it informed him blandly.

Flash wanted to crawl into a hole. Crawl into a hole, and never come out. Ever.

He couldn’t be attracted to Eddie. He was...He was _Eddie Brock_. He was a jackass. Argumentative. Self-absorbed. He was a complete, utter pain in the ass.

...Well, okay, maybe less of those things in recent months, but Flash still couldn’t see how he could _possibly_ feel _any_ sort of _attraction_ toward Eddie Brock. Unless it was just physical.

That had to be it.

It was just physical. It was just Eddie’s ridiculously well-sculpted muscles. His stupid gorgeous eyes. The obnoxiously handsome grin he got when he laughed at one of Flash’s jokes.

That’s all it was. Physical attraction. Nothing else.

It was at that moment, while Flash was groaning quietly to himself, that Eddie chose to come out of the bathroom. This time, wearing boxer briefs and a t-shirt. He frowned at Flash, finding the veteran significantly more stressed than when he'd first opted to take a shower. “You alright?”

“Yep, fine,” Flash strained, trying to look at anything that was not Eddie. Or Eddie’s thighs. Or the way his boxer briefs _clung_ to his thighs, and his— “Think I’m gonna go ahead and try to sleep,” Flash determined, clenching his fist.

“...Yeah,” Eddie muttered, still looking a bit confused by the veteran’s antics. “Good night.”

“‘Night,” Flash responded. “Sleep tight.”

Eddie huffed, climbing into the bed.

Flash nearly smacked himself in the face. Sleep tight. When the hell had he ever told Eddie to sleep tight? The sheets weren’t even tight. Eddie’s shirt was a little tight, and his boxer briefs, with how easily Flash could stare at his ass—

‘ _Put me to sleep_ ,’ he begged the symbiote. ‘ _Please knock me the fuck out right now._ ’


	26. Road Trip (Part Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash tries very hard to keep his cool. Neither Eddie nor the symbiote help with this endeavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash thought he could get away with not sleeping on the One Bed. There is literally no other reason for its inclusion. Sorry not sorry Flash.
> 
> Also of note, Eddie and Flash discuss sex in this chapter (though not with each other), so if that’s not something you’re comfortable with reading, here is a mild content warning :V They don’t get explicit imo, but everybody’s got a different threshold for that sorta thing.

It was the middle of the night when the symbiote nudged Flash awake. The reason for this nudge was Eddie, sitting upright in bed, looking troubled. He was wearing one of Flash’s hoodies again, arms folded tightly over his knees.

Flash grunted, annoyed that he was no longer unconscious. “Eddie?”

The other man looked at him, frowning, features clear thanks to the symbiote. “You’re awake?”

“Am now,” Flash confirmed with a groan.

 _ **Eddie hasn’t slept**_ , the symbiote informed him. _**Something’s wrong.**_

“You okay?” Flash asked with a yawn, grateful that at least half the other man was hidden under the covers. He didn’t need to think about Eddie’s legs while trying to be concerned. Even if he was thinking about them now.

Dammit.

“This feels weird,” Eddie stated.

“...this?” Flash questioned.

“Me on the bed and you on the chair,” Eddie clarified. “It’s weird.”

Flash scoffed. “We’re not doing this again—You already sleep on the couch back home.”

“That’s exactly why it’s weird!” Eddie argued.

“What do you want, then?” Flash asked. “You wanna share the damn bed?”

Eddie hesitated for only a second before uttering, “Yes?”

Flash instantaneously felt the need to scream. He choked it back down. “Dude,” he laughed nervously. “What? No.”

“It’s big enough,” Eddie noted.

“That isn’t the problem!” Flash shot back. He tried in vain to reposition himself on the chair, finding nothing comfortable. “Just—Fuck’s sake, Eddie, go back to sleep.”

It was the symbiote’s turn to argue, nudging Flash’s face off the back of the chair. “ **Can’t sleep. Both of you need rest. Go sleep on the bed, Flash.** ”

“Yeah, but I don’t think Eddie needs a cuddle-buddy,” Flash snapped.

“ **Want to be near my other,** ” it countered, glaring. “ **Will be easier to keep you both asleep on the bed.** ”

Flash glared right back at it. ‘ _Don’t you dare_ ,’ he scolded mentally. ‘ _Don’t you fucking dare make me sleep next to him right now._ ’

 _ **Your feelings are making you act stupid**_ , it responded. _**It will be fine.**_

‘ _You don’t know that!_ ’

“...Are you two in a staring contest, or arguing privately?” Eddie asked, unamused by the fact that the pair was clearly breaking their earlier rule of speaking aloud. When Flash flinched, Eddie’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Sleep in the fucking chair,” he groused, turning to lie down, his back to the pair of them.

Flash felt his face burning at the tone. Things were going so well between them, and now he was fucking it up over where to _sleep_. “...Eddie,” he started, with a sigh. “ _Why_ do you want me to sleep on the bed?”

“Figured it made more sense, since you paid for the fucking room,” Eddie grumbled. “Excuse me for not realizing how much an issue you’d have being near me.”

“That isn’t—!” Flash began, and then cut himself off with a frustrated groan, covering his mouth with his hand. “I don’t have an issue being _near_ you,” he argued. “Didn’t we just spend hours next to each other on the bus?”

Eddie grunted.

Flash didn’t need the symbiote to tell him the grunt meant Eddie was too pissed to acknowledge the point.

 _ **Would you have cared so much yesterday?**_ the symbiote questioned. _**Were fine on the bus. Only taking issue with it now.**_

‘ _Why do_ you _care so much?!_ ’ Flash shot back with a grimace. ‘ _Why do I need to sleep next to him?_ ’

 _ **Know the look he had before you woke up**_. _**Eddie’s scared.**_

The statement gave Flash pause. He turned to look at Eddie again, finding that the other man had drawn the covers back over himself, pulled tight against his shoulders. Incredibly tight, like he was gripping them in a balled up fist.

‘ _Scared?_ ’

_**About California, probably.** _

Flash bit the inside of his lip. He couldn’t distract Eddie right now, not like they had on the bus. He’d just sit, awake, alone with his thoughts, with the symbiote over on the chair with Flash. ‘ _Couldn’t you just stretch over to him?_ ’ Flash suggested, only getting an irritated frazzled feeling in response. ‘ _I don’t—If I’m sleeping next to him then I’m gonna start thinking of weird shit—’_

 _ **Can put you to sleep!**_ the klyntar snapped. _**Won’t think of anything! Nothing will happen except for you two getting more sleep!**_

Flash frowned at Eddie, at once wanting to comfort him and stay in the absolute opposite corner of the room. At least, until he figured out why he suddenly found Eddie so much more attractive than before.

Still, he did realize he was acting like an idiot.

There was plenty of room on the bed, with Eddie on his side. They could sleep back-to-back. He’d likely be unconscious before any errant thoughts of Eddie’s body slipped through, thanks to the symbiote.

And, hopefully, it would mend the tear he’d just made in their tenuous friendship.

With a deep breath, Flash stood, walking over to the edge of the bed. He picked up the other end of the covers, sliding beneath them with his back to Eddie’s.

Even with the hoodie, Eddie was _cold_.

The realization made Flash’s stomach squirm with guilt, wondering if the cold was another reason Eddie was so uncomfortable. He almost sat up again, to try and fiddle with the heater in the corner of the room, only to feel the symbiote urging him back down.

 _ **Saw Eddie try it earlier**_ , his partner informed him, guessing at Flash’s intent. _**Heater isn’t putting out enough hot air.**_

‘ _Then why wasn’t I cold? What did you do?_ ’

 _ **Regulating your temperature**_ , the symbiote mentally shrugged at him. _**Can do that for Eddie but, it is inefficient to try it from the chair.**_

‘ _...Okay, you could’ve explained that earlier,_ ’ Flash groused, settling somewhat.

_**Tried! You were too busy panicking!** _

Flash flushed. He tugged the covers a little out of Eddie’s grip, and then squeezed his eyes shut.

Eddie was quiet.

“...Sorry,” Flash mumbled, feeling the symbiote spread from his back to Eddie’s, covering its other in another layer of warmth. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t...like you.”

He felt Eddie relax, the other man’s voice hushed as he responded.

Flash didn’t hear it, already put to sleep.

* * *

The pair of men sat on the next bus the following day, Flash making a point to show he was absolutely _fine_ next to Eddie. Even if his skin felt hypersensitive to every brush of Eddie’s arm, like he was supercharged with electricity. Even if he might be craving a drink right about now.

But, no, he was fine. Totally fine. Resolute as he kept his own arm against Eddie’s, not thinking about how nicely Eddie’s shirt fit.

‘ _Could you knock me out again, sweetheart?_ ’ Flash tried.

 _ **Got enough sleep last night. Can’t solve your issues when you’re unconscious**_ **,** the symbiote scolded.

Flash leaned back against the headrest of his seat, fingers tensing as he attempted to keep his fists from clenching.

Eddie seemed tired, still, stretching his neck with an annoyed grimace.

“You okay?” Flash asked, noting the pain flicker across the journalist’s face.

“Must’ve slept weird,” Eddie mumbled, rubbing his neck with a sigh.

Unseen, the symbiote slipped behind Eddie’s shoulders, reaching up to massage the muscles in his stead.

Eddie let out a deep, warm groan, smiling at the gesture. “Thank you, love.”

Flash looked away, feeling his face heating up at the noise. ‘ _Fuck,_ ’ he thought. Eddie’s voice had no right to sound that good. He had no right to make that noise while Flash was trying his damndest to _not_ think of Eddie making it with his clothes off.

Eddie, curse him, noticed Flash had some level of distress. “Are _you_ okay?” the journalist questioned, relaxing into the symbiote’s touch.

“Peachy keen,” Flash answered, immediately wanting to smack himself. Again. ‘Peachy keen’ was not in his normal vocabulary. He was a New Yorker, not some Southern belle simpering and swooning over the big, buff bear of a man next to him.

“If you say so,” Eddie commented, disbelieving.

Dammit, the jackass was on to him, wasn’t he?

‘ _It’s fine_ ,’ Flash told himself. ‘ _As long as he doesn’t know I’m wondering what he sounds like in bed, it’s fucking fine._ ’

 _ **Could show you, if that helps**_ , his partner offered.

‘ _That’s the fucking opposite of help!_ ’ Flash panicked, overwhelming the pusles of confusion from the symbiote. He glanced at Eddie, who, thankfully, had his eyes closed.

He needed a distraction. Something dumb. Silly. Weird. Anything.

“So, you uh, you wanna talk about host stories again?” Flash offered, desperate for Eddie to talk about something that could throw him off Flash’s frazzled state.

“Like what?” Eddie questioned.

“I dunno,” Flash faltered. “Maybe different uh…” He wracked his brain for topics.

Fights? Symbiotic outfits? Other symbiote hosts? People they’d bonded with?

“Partners?” Flash blurted out, instantaneously regretting his choice.

Eddie opened his eyes, frowning. “You mean, odd team ups?”

“Yes,” Flash confirmed, relieved Eddie had gone with the average definition.

“Spider-Man,” Eddie scoffed. With a smirk, he added, “You.”

Flash snorted. “Yeah, me. Those sound pretty...I dunno, typical.”

“Teaming up with our arch nemesis is typical?” the other man asked.

“Well…” Flash shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, okay, I guess. But I meant like, people I might only know by name.” He perked up a little as he thought of his own, prior teammates. “Y’know, like, we fought with the Guardians of the Galaxy for a while. Valkyrie, too. Trained with her.”

“I’ll admit to being somewhat surprised she didn’t break every bone in your body.”

Flash scowled at him. “I can hold my own. Could even say she was pretty _impressed_ with my body.”

Eddie looked entirely unimpressed by the information. “Is this your weird way of bragging that you had sex with Valkyrie?”

“Wh—No!” the veteran flushed. “I mean—yeah we did, but—”

“So, was it your body she was impressed with, or the symbiote?” Eddie teased with a grin.

“It wasn’t—It was just me and Valkyrie,” Flash blurted out, wondering why he had to pick this topic in particular. His body was not something he wanted to discuss with Eddie. Or, maybe it was—No. _No._

Eddie looked confused. “You unbonded to have sex?”

Flash’s brow furrowed in his own confusion. “What? No.”

“It didn’t participate?” Eddie questioned further. When Flash only stared at him, baffled, the journalist scoffed again. “Sounds dull.”

Flash took a moment to process, struggling. He didn’t even know his partner _could_ participate in sex. Or wanted to. ‘ _Did you want to?_ ’

_**You didn’t seem interested. Would have, if you wanted it.** _

Flash was sure his face was a _very_ bright shade of red, with how hot he now felt. Eddie, on the other hand, seemed perfectly nonplussed. As if Flash _should_ have thought of it. “Eddie,” Flash began, voice a little choked. “Have you...Have you had sex with…?”

“My other,” Eddie finished for him. “Yeah.”

It was then that Flash realized the symbiote had not been teasing when it said it could show him what Eddie sounded like in bed. It knew. It definitely knew. It knew everything Flash was beginning to wonder about.

“Oh,” Flash managed.

“You didn’t?” Eddie asked, a little surprised.

“No?!” Flash answered, eyes wide. “I didn’t know it...It can?!”

Eddie bit his lips together, in an effort not to laugh too hard. “Yes. It enjoys the chemicals that get released.” He couldn’t help but chuckle a little though, as he asked, “You _do_ realize it would have been there the whole time, right? Even if you were...otherwise alone?”

Flash stilled. The symbiote hadn’t been participating, obviously, but it still _saw_. Still _felt_ and _heard_ and—

 _ **Yes, know what you sound like, too,**_ his partner rumbled tiredly.

“Holy shit I never thought of that,” Flash said mechanically, only to groan into his hands, flooded with embarrassment.

Eddie laughed fully then. “Your loss, Thompson.”


	27. Road Trip (Final)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash resolves he needs to communicate better, though it's easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INCOMING ANGST WARNING. Of course, we're finally getting to California, so that's sort of a given.

Flash regretted not getting plane tickets to California. Granted, it would’ve been expensive. Not to mention the fact that he was sure both he and Eddie were on plenty of watchlists, government or otherwise, so even a national flight might have been dicey.

Plus, y’know, TSA tended to frown upon having handguns.

Still, it would have been faster to fly than to be on this road trip. Then he would have had maybe five hours to sit and stew in his thoughts, which wouldn’t have led him to all these new...uncomfortable realizations.

Nor would he now be boring holes into his phone screen, in an attempt to find literally anything else to think about.

After continuing to ignore his texts (several from Peter, probably also wondering why the hell he’d decided to go on this road trip in the first place), Flash let his head fall back against his seat.

Eddie himself seemed fine, head invisibly cushioned against the window by a layer of symbiote. The world was dark beyond the glass, excepting the glimpses of streetlights and backlit store signs. The other man showed no signs of stirring, deeply asleep, unaware as Flash’s stomach twisted into knots.

Eddie, who had sex with the symbiote. Who knew it _could_. Who had actually _acknowledged_ it being there, all the time.

While Flash’s communication track record with it was...spotty, at best. The realization was obvious, in retrospect. Hell, he could remember his partner lounging after the act, without actually participating. Without even bringing the topic up. Everything they’d left unsaid.

_Would have, if you wanted it._

_**What’s wrong?** _

Flash sighed through his nose, not even sure where to start. _‘...Mad at myself for not realizing you were...You should’ve been included in the conversation, when I had sex. While bonded to you, I mean.’_

 _ **My kind do not reproduce sexually**_ , his partner reminded him. _**It is not a matter of great concern. Wanted what you wanted.**_

 _‘It’s important,’_ Flash stated, unable to keep the frown off his face as their conversation continued. ‘ _It’s...You’re my partner. It’s a consent thing. You get a say, too.’_

As warmth bloomed over his shoulders in an internal embrace, the symbiote let out a fond rumble, _**You have our consent, Flash.**_

The veteran relaxed a little, still biting the inside of his lip. _‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you from the start. I should’ve.’_ He could tell, from the confusion he felt off their bond, that the symbiote didn’t quite understand _why_ the issue was so important to him. That it was contemplating, reviewing Flash’s own human standards before formulating a response.

 _ **You caused no upset,**_ it ultimately said, more tendrils looping around the inside of his torso. _**The chemicals produced during sex are delicious.**_

Flash smirked a little. _‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, but you should still have a say. It’s about showing you the respect you deserve.’_ His eyes drifted to Eddie again. ‘ _...did Eddie ask you?’_

 _ **Eddie…**_ it started, but then paused, as if reviewing its answer. _**Sometimes. Not always with words, but always obvious. Know his intents and desires without speaking, when we are bonded. Same as we have with you.**_

 _‘Are you leaning back on your human-words-are-dumb argument?’_ Flash asked.

A bristling feeling spread over his ribs, but amusement radiated from the symbiote. _**Dumb for us. Unnecessary when we are allowed into your thoughts.**_

He smirked again, but the expression soon fell. ‘ _...I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you then, and I don’t want to now. If you...If there’s any point you’re uncomfortable—_ ’

_**Know you didn’t. Wasn’t uncomfortable.** _

“I’m still sorry,” Flash whispered. He sat quietly, as the symbiote mulled over the apology, fingers curling into fists. It wasn’t until he felt a nudge at his chin that he realized the symbiote had manifested a tiny tendril, with eyespots staring up at him. He swallowed, frowning, and lifted a hand to trail an affectionate finger over the top of its head. “I’ll ask you from now on. I love you.”

The symbiote’s eyes squinted. Soothing pulses of happiness floated over their bond as it curled into the touch. _**Love you, too.**_

Flash’s gaze softened, smiling at his partner before it withdrew under his skin, feeling a little better. In its absence, his eyes were back on Eddie, and instantly his stomach dropped again.

Would there even be a time to ask, in the future? He wouldn’t be bonded to the symbiote after this mission. It would return to Eddie. His sex life would have nothing to do with them.

Unless—

‘ _Ugh.’_ Flash rubbed his eyes, exhausted. When he opened them again, his gaze locked right back onto Eddie. Back onto biceps he was tempted to lean against, with how tired he felt now. Biceps he would absolutely _not_ lean against.

God dammit.

 _ **Your attraction bothers you**_ , the symbiote observed, as Flash watched shadows dance over Eddie’s cheekbones.

‘ _...yeah.’_

_**Why?** _

_‘Because it’s Eddie?’_ Flash countered, turning away, head thudding on the back of his seat again. _‘Because I don’t even know how this happened?_ ’

_**You usually don’t.** _

Flash felt heat spreading across his cheeks. “This shit’s complicated, okay?” he mumbled. His feelings had seemed simple, until the motel. He and Eddie were friends. Tentatively. Tenuously. Now they were all tangled up in curiosity and wants he couldn’t push, unless he wanted to throw their progress to the wind.

 _ **Why?**_ the symbiote questioned again. _**You are attracted to Eddie. Not that complicated.**_

‘ _We’re finally at a point where he doesn’t want to murder me on sight. You really think asking if wants to—_ ’ Flash cut himself off, refusing to even finish the thought. _‘It’d jeopardize what we have now. Not happening.’_

An impression of an eye roll. _**Should still discuss it. Bothering you too much, and Eddie can’t read your mind.**_

Flash looked again to his slumbering companion. Eddie looked more peaceful now than he had the whole trip. He didn’t feel like disrupting Eddie’s rest just to have a chat about his own bullshit feelings.

_**Flash...** _

“It can wait,” Flash uttered softly, arms folding over his chest as he shut his own eyes. “We have more important shit to deal with.”

* * *

After this trip, Flash did not want to see another motel for a long, long time.

On the plus side, they were finally _in_ California, finally close to their first target, and this room actually had two beds. No need for dumb arguments or stupid worries. Just a short rest, and it was off to the Brock family home they went. Then they dealt with the Maker, they’d head home fine and dandy, and Flash could sleep in his own damn bed again.

And yet, the air was tense as Flash plopped down on the edge of his bed, taking a moment to rest on a decent cushion instead of a bus seat. He turned to Eddie, who was busying himself drawing the blinds and curtains, blocking off the bright sunlight trying to filter through the window. Flash’s head canted to the side as he watched, a curious frown on his lips. “Is that necessary?”

“I don’t know—Do you want the Maker’s mooks identifying us if they spot us through the window?” Eddie countered brusquely.

“How would he know we’re here?” Flash asked. “I only told my coworkers about the trip to Cali.”

“He may have already caught wind of us being in town,” Eddie grumbled, retrieving his backpack and sitting it on his bed. “I don’t know what sort of connections he has.”

“...Right. Yeah, that doesn’t sound paranoid at all,” Flash commented dryly.

“Shut _up,_ Thompson,” Eddie growled quietly, brow furrowed, concentrating instead on rifling through the contents of his backpack.

The tone took Flash by surprise. From the worry he felt from the bond, it took the symbiote by surprise, too. “I’m...sorry?”

Eddie flinched, halting. He took a breath, jaw clenched.

The symbiote uncoiled from Flash’s collar, directing concerned noises at its other.

The trills seemed to convey something to Eddie that Flash was unable to parse, resulting in the journalist dropping his grip on his backpack entirely to rub his hand over his face. He moved instead to sit across from Flash, not looking at the veteran.

The quiet dragged on.

“Eddie—?” Flash started, only to pause as Eddie held a hand out, palm up.

The journalist met Flash’s gaze, eyes pleading. “Can I…?”

Flash stared back at him, aghast. He could only be asking for the symbiote. It was the only thing Flash had that Eddie wanted. “You want to bond with it _now?_ ”

“Not...No,” Eddie corrected, expression conflicted. “I...I only want to hold part of it. For a moment.”

The symbiote needed no more invitation than that, tendrils stretching immediately to wrap over Eddie’s extended hand.

Eddie drew it close, holding the living, moving shadows with one hand, and drawing his fingers over its form with the other. He said nothing else, watching the symbiote as it twined over him, again and again, entangling itself in his touch.

The group sat there in silence, and Flash watched too. Watched Eddie’s hands, not exactly delicate with his touches, moving almost like the symbiote was a stress ball. Kept watching, as Eddie continued to sit, and say nothing. Only moving his fingers, breathing shallow breaths.

Breaths that were coming a little too quick.

“...Eddie?” Flash uttered, gently.

Immediately Eddie’s hands stopped, clutching his other.

“You’re not okay, are you,” Flash observed. Another wave of worry from the symbiote answered the non-question for him.

“...I’m scared,” Eddie said softly. Then, he scoffed, a disdainful smirk on his lips. “I shouldn’t be scared. I’m stronger than him. Nothing he says could hurt me, at this point.”

‘ _Is he talking about the Maker still?’_ Flash asked internally.

 _ **Carl Brock**_ , the symbiote corrected.

Flash grimaced inwardly. They’d been keeping Eddie’s mind off things well enough until now, but the time had finally come to face the feelings he’d been fighting off. He should’ve expected a reaction like this. Should’ve known Eddie needed an ear, not just a distraction.

_**His hands are shaking.** _

To hell with it.

Flash reached forward, taking hold of one of Eddie’s hands himself. He gripped firmly, not enough to hurt, but enough to redirect Eddie’s’ attention.

The action had Eddie looking up in surprise, startled.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Flash assured him. “We don’t even have to go, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” Eddie affirmed. “I haven’t, I only…” His hands curled, slightly, not quite gripping Flash’s in return, but still holding onto the symbiote like a lifeline. “You’re not going to bolt on me, right?”

Flash scoffed at the question, hardly deigning it to be worth answering, until he met Eddie’s gaze again. Until he realized Eddie was serious, stiff and wary, with an expression that almost looked accusing, but Flash could now recognize was barely burying the true, underlying fear. “...Hey,” Flash started, brow furrowing. “No. Of course not. We’re with you.”

Eddie looked unconvinced, still a taut bundle of nerves. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Me?” Flash questioned.

“The past couple days,” Eddie elaborated. “You’re not...You won’t just run off with my other again.” The statement almost sounded confident. Like he knew Flash wouldn’t. Not again. Or, it did, until he added a quiet, “Right?”

“ **Not going anywhere, Eddie. Only going with you,** ” the symbiote explained, moving its head to nudge its other’s cheek.

Eddie leaned into it, but his eyes still bored into Flash’s.

‘ _Fuck._ ’ Eddie didn’t know what Flash was freaking out about, which was partly a blessing, but it also held the curse of absolutely blatant misinterpretation. Flash couldn’t even come up with a conceivable lie about his behavior. It wasn’t like he was any good at _hiding_ his distress. Flash dropped his head with a heavy sigh. “...I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been acting like an idiot.”

 _ **Tell him**_ , his partner prodded.

Flash looked to Eddie, at how tense he was. So suspicious. So _afraid_ , even without worrying about whether Flash was really going to make good on his promise of back up.

What was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry, I just realized halfway through this trip to face your estranged father and a supervillain that temporarily broke your _brain_ that I think you’re _really hot?_ ’

God, he was such an _asshole_. Here was Eddie, trying his damndest to _fix_ some of the worst shit in his life, and all Flash could do was stare and marvel at how pretty his eyes were.

_Fuck._

“...It’s a personal thing,” Flash told him. “It’s got nothing to do with—with helping you.” He sighed again, frustrated, running a hand over his hair before looking earnestly to Eddie again. “I’ve got your back. I’m gonna see this through, and we’re all going back to New York. Together.”

The symbiote narrowed its eyes at Flash, dissatisfaction with the omissions plain.

Eddie, though, relaxed. He leaned more heavily against the symbiote, closing his eyes. “...Okay.”

Flash directed an apologetic wince to his partner, and then gave Eddie’s hand another squeeze. “You wanna take some time to prepare? Like, mentally?” he asked. “We don’t have to go until you’re ready.”

“If we wait that long, we’ll never go,” Eddie stated. He straightened, the hand holding the symbiote giving it a final rub before letting it withdraw. The other hand’s movements were more awkward, thumb brushing over Flash’s before it dropped to Eddie’s side. He stood, waiting for Flash to stand with him.

Flash didn’t hesitate, nodding to Eddie to lead the way.

“Alright,” Eddie muttered, fist clenching. “Let’s get this over with.”


	28. Brock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finds that ten years away means there have been a few changes to the Brock family home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re going with a weird conglomeration for Eddie’s backstory since I prefer Michelinie, but also feel that the whole “oooh mary never existed!!” thing is dumb and lazy. I like sibling characters, dammit! What Eddie knows is hearsay. What’s the opposite of fridging a character? Microwaving? I’m microwaving Mary Brock.

They had, miraculously, managed to get to Eddie’s old neighborhood without Flash making a complete and utter ass of himself, but the veteran’s nerves were still shot. The neighborhood _screamed_ suburbia, with its beautifully maintained lawns and flower gardens. Picture-perfect houses, mirror images of each other and differing only in the color of their fresh, bright paint. It reeked of wealth and overzealous HomeOwners Associations.

Flash felt absurdly out of place. Felt he _looked_ out of place, with his untrimmed hair tickling his ears and the back of his neck as they walked. At least he had the symbiote giving the impression that he was wearing recently-ironed clothes.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Eddie must feel about coming back after years of homelessness and sewer-living.

The veteran glanced to Eddie, finding that the other man’s gait had slowed so that he was now a few paces behind Flash. The reluctance on Eddie’s face was palpable. “We could look for the Maker first,” Flash reminded him.

“No,” Eddie stated, continuing to walk. “I want to get this over with.”

“You think he’s gonna give you the contact info?”

Eddie grimaced. “I might have to threaten him.”

“Do you _want_ to threaten him?” Flash asked, worried they might have to restrain Eddie from outright obliterating his father, if it came down to it.

“...Not really,” Eddie admitted quietly. “Or...I don’t know anymore.”

 _ **Hates Carl, but…**_ The symbiote squirmed around Flash’s stomach, unease at being on this street radiating from its mass and compounding Flash’s own nervousness. _**Wouldn’t hurt him. Probably. Feelings are complicated.**_

“...Yeah, I get that,” Flash muttered, meeting Eddie’s gaze as the man glanced at him.

Something softened in Eddie’s eyes, before he walked on, rounding the corner.

Flash followed, having to stop almost immediately, finding Eddie frozen on the sidewalk. He looked past the other man, only to spot what he could only describe as a goddamn _mansion_.

There were at least three floors—Four, if he counted the castle-like tower near the front. A columned overhang sat over the door, evoking the thought not just of money, but _old_ money. It reminded Flash of one of his sister’s fancy doll-houses, now lifesize and extravagant. A gloomier version though, with darker, muted colors as opposed to the bright pinks and purples of Jesse’s toy. Even so, the house was in impeccable condition. Brick chimney with no signs of ivy, spotless siding, and windows that were crystal clear.

After a long moment of gawking and not wanting to think about how much the place must cost, Flash choked out, “ _That’s_ your old house?!”

“His car’s gone,” Eddie noted distractedly.

The driveway was, in fact, empty. No cars on the street in front of the house either.

“So, he’s not even home?” Flash huffed a laugh. “Do we come back later, or—”

Eddie walked forward before Flash could finish, and then nearly jogged to the front door.

“Eddie!” Flash hissed, running up after him. Once he’d reached the porch, he found the other man to be looking frantically around the doorframe. Checking the top, then under the welcome mat. Then cursing. “What are you doing?!”

Eddie gave a frustrated grunt, glaring at the doorknob. “No spare key.”

Flash stepped up next to it, blocking it off. “We didn’t come here to _rob_ him—!”

“He’s not _here,_ ” Eddie told him. “This is the best time to look!”

“What if he comes back—?!” Flash stopped as he heard a click. He looked down to the knob.

A black tendril withdrew from the lock, zipping back under Flash’s skin.

“God _dammit—_ ”

“Thanks, love,” Eddie grinned, moving past Flash and entering.

_**Faster if we look now! Won’t even notice we were here!** _

Flash took a deep breath, grimacing. He looked around the neighborhood, not seeing any neighbors out walking, or peering through their windows.

There was a car coming down the road.

Flash moved behind one of the columns at the sight of it, heart pounding, almost praying that the car didn’t belong to who he thought it did. It was a Bentley, judging by the hood ornament, and it drove slowly, closer and closer, until it was only two houses down.

Then the car turned into a different driveway, pulling to a stop.

One of the neighbors, probably.

 _ **Come on!**_ the symbiote urged.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered, following Eddie inside.

In the foyer, he found the other man looking around with a grimace. Eddie’s fists clenched and unclenched, anxiously. “He’s changed things,” the journalist noted, taking in the decor.

To Flash, it looked posh, but sparse. Not quite going for minimalism, either, with largely barren walls and functional furniture. It was pristine, but there was no sense that anyone actually _lived_ here. Almost like a museum exhibit rather than a home, only meant to maintain appearances.

There was a fancy, plush rug on the floor as he walked in, but hardly any other decoration. A glance at the empty coat hooks told the veteran that Carl Brock likely still lived alone.

And yet, above the hooks, he spotted a framed photograph.

As Eddie looked questioningly at a few of the empty walls, Flash approached the photo. It was a family, smiling, which almost convinced Flash they were in the wrong house until he got a better look at the parents.

The man had slicked-back blond hair and a strong jaw. Dark, bushy brows on top of a stern resting face. He looked exactly how Flash imagined Eddie would look when he got a bit older, though he’d have to drop his exercise routine. This man was clearly not a weightlifter. He wore a smart-looking suit over his average frame, and a small smile for the camera.

 _ **Carl, many years ago** , _the symbiote provided. _**Old picture.**_

The woman next to Carl Brock was lovely, with long hair, also blonde, though Flash wasn’t entirely sure it was natural. Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth. Her grin was bright and warm, absolutely beaming as she held a sweet, bundled baby in her arms.

_**Jamie. Eddie’s mother.** _

“Is that you?” Flash asked, indicating the baby in the photo as he turned to Eddie. He gestured to the wisps of blond locks on the baby’s head. “You were blond as a kid?”

Eddie stared at it, unmoving, recognition in his eyes before they darkened. “No. That’s Mary—My sister.” He tore his gaze away, moving to go up the stairs.

“Wh—You have a sister?” Flash questioned, trailing after him. “You never mentioned her.”

“Last I heard, she fell into a coma and contracted cancer,” Eddie stated, looking resolutely forward as he climbed the stairs. “She’s dead.”

Flash paused on the stairs. “...Oh.” Back to feeling like an idiot. ‘ _Coulda warned me_ ,’ he shot at the symbiote.

 _ **The words are out of your mouth before we know what you’ll say**_ , it grumbled.

Flash conceded the point. Probably better not to ask Eddie about it either, with how blunt the reaction had been. The veteran ascended the last of the stairs with a sigh. ‘ _Were they close? Did I just open up a can of worms?_ ’

His partner hesitated. _ **Eddie loved her. She…**_ it paused again, almost in thought, and then opted for impressions instead. Feelings, without words.

Flash felt a spark of anger and an ache of sadness that permeated his entire core. A sense of pride, about Mary, about a beloved older sister, but doused in pain and loneliness that ran so deep he thought his limbs had gone numb. The veteran shook his head, leaning on the railing.

‘Complicated’ hardly covered it.

“Flash? You alright?”

Flash blinked up at Eddie, standing straight again. “Yeah...Sorry. I didn’t…” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted his gaze. “Being back here is really tough for you, huh.”

Eddie regarded Flash with suspicion. “...What is my other telling you?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” Flash promised. “Just...Feelings. I don’t even totally get what they mean.”

“Feelings?” Eddie questioned. “Whose—? My feelings?”

The symbiote extended a face from Flash’s shoulder, canting its head at Eddie. “ **Only contextual. Flash does not know your family. Does not want to hurt you by saying something stupid.** ”

Flash flushed at the admission.

Eddie looked from the symbiote to Flash again, and then sighed. “...about Mary?”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Flash assured him hastily. “Seriously. I don’t wanna—This is already hard enough for you, yeah?”

“ **Can talk about it after we leave this place** ,” the symbiote suggested.

Eddie eyed them with a tense stare, before his shoulders slumped. “Let’s just find Ms. Dempsey’s address and get a move on.”

“...Sure,” Flash nodded, letting Eddie lead the way.

Eddie walked briskly, opening the door at the end of the hall. Then he glared. “ _Dammit_.”

“What’s up?” Flash asked.

“He moved his office,” Eddie grumbled, roughly shutting the door again. “Converted this room into a study.”

“Oh good, so now we have to snoop around the whole house,” Flash groused.

Eddie checked the next door. “Still his room,” he muttered.

Flash checked the door beside him. It was a large bedroom, as sparsely furnished as the foyer, lacking any touch of home. Except for one stuffed doll, sitting against the pillows with a perfectly plaited hair and a wide, stitched smile.

“ **Still Mary’s room,** ” the symbiote confirmed.

Eddie brushed past them, skipping what the symbiote told Flash was a bathroom, and coming to the final door on this end of the hall.

His hand paused on the doorknob.

“ **Eddie’s room** ,” the klyntar quietly chittered.

The veteran watched as Eddie continued to hesitate, unsure whether his father had converted his old room into a new office. “...Do you want us to check that one?” Flash asked.

“...No. I can,” Eddie decided, turning the knob slowly as he opened it. He went quiet for a moment, just looking. Then stilled at what he saw, fingers tightening around the doorknob.

Then he slammed the door shut again, storming down the stairs.

“Eddie!” Flash called, to no avail. As the other man continued the search, Flash frowned at the door to Eddie’s old bedroom. Not the office, clearly, but _something_ changed.

“ **Check.** ”

“You sure?” Flash asked his partner.

“ **Need to know what upset him so we can help** ,” it responded, eyes narrowing at the door.

The veteran agreed, inwardly, turning the knob and peering inside.

Eddie’s room was full of boxes.

Boxes and boxes of storage, lining the walls. Bits and bobs. Not even bedroom furniture—no bed frame, no desk, nothing. Just piles of cardboard and plastic boxes, with assorted items peeking out the tops, like broken picture frames and office supplies deemed unneeded in the actual office. A paper sign was taped to one pile, for recycling. Another for donation. Yet another, for the dump.

Junk. All of it. Useless, meaningless junk.

“Found the fucking office!”

Flash turned back at the shout, more than ready to shut this door, find the damn address, and get the hell out of here, when he felt a tug on his arm.

**“Flash, wait—”**

“What?”

**“Look. In the back.”**

Flash frowned, but looked anyway, letting the symbiote steer him toward the large plastic containers it had spotted. There was a glint of something shiny. Something gold. The veteran lifted one of them off the pile and set it on the floor. He knelt to pull off the dusty lid, eyes widening as his gaze was met by over a dozen trophies, stored neatly, with care.

The name ‘EDWARD CHARLES ALLAN BROCK’ was engraved at the base of every single one. The whole name, as if Eddie had wanted everyone to know they were his, and his alone.

“Woah,” Flash breathed, picking up one of the smaller ones, marveling as he spotted ribbons, too, peeking out of an envelope at the bottom. “These aren’t just wrestling—He _won_ all of these?”

 **“Yes** ,” the symbiote confirmed, but its tone was more confused than proud at the sight. “ **Surprised his father kept them**.”

“Maybe he _did_ actually care a li…” Flash started, only to trail off as he realized which pile the trophies resided in.

The dump. All these awards. All of Eddie’s achievements, slated to get thrown out with the rest of the garbage.

 _ **Dusty**_ , the symbiote noted. _**Hasn’t come into this room in a long time.**_

Flash wasn’t sure what to make of that fact, frowning at the trophy in his hand.

Glass shattered loudly downstairs.

Flash was standing in an instant, eyes on the open door. “Eddie?”

Then, different voices shouting, and a loud _thud_ as something fell.

“ _Eddie!”_ Flash yelled, dropping the trophy and running toward the stairs. Once on the first floor, he followed a tug from the symbiote, urging him toward the sounds coming from the hall on his left.

They bolted down the corridor, nearly skidding past the office, only stopping once Flash grabbed the doorframe.

There was a man inside, dressed in black body armor—almost like a SWAT member, carrying an automatic rifle. Beyond him, out the shattered windows, were others, dragging a struggling Eddie toward a black van.

The symbiote surged over Flash’s frame, and they leapt at the man as Agent Venom. They collided with a roar, slamming the man to the ground, arms pinned.

The man squirmed uselessly in Agent Venom’s grasp, his voice panicked. “What the hell—?!”

Agent Venom snarled, one tendril snatching the rifle out of his grasp before they leapt out the broken window. They lifted the gun, but couldn’t bring themselves to shoot with Eddie squirming in and out of the line of fire. Instead, they ran after the group.

One man turned his head just in time to see Agent Venom barreling down on them. “Oh shit—!”

The other goon holding Eddie looked up in alarm, only to grab a device from his belt. It looked almost like a blow horn, and he pointed it right in the face of Agent Venom before pressing the trigger.

A sharp, screeching blare filled Agent Venom’s ears, and they collapsed to their knees. They shoved their hands over their ears as they yelled, like shouting over the sound would be any help, the symbiote writhing and spasming in pain.

The noise stopped suddenly, when the men threw Eddie into the back of their van.

He struggled against them, uncoordinated, face pinched in pain as he reached for Agent Venom. “ _Flash!_ ”

The back doors of the van were pulled shut with a _slam_ , and it drove off.

Flash felt his head spinning, and he dropped a hand to the ground in an effort to keep himself from falling. ‘ _Why didn’t—Eddie could’ve broken out—’_

 _ **Movements were off—**_ came the symbiote’s choked reply, _**Must’ve...drugged—**_

Agent Venom shook their head, clambering uneasily to their feet.

They saw the owner of the Bentley Flash had spotted earlier, before they’d entered the Brock family home, slamming his door shut and jogging after the van. “Wait, you imbeciles!” he shouted, shaking a fist at the vehicle as it jumped a curb and rounded a corner. “Get back here! You missed the other one!”

Flash didn’t need the symbiote to tell him the man’s identity, even if his slick blond hair had grayed over the years.

“ _ **Carl Brock**_.”

Carl turned at the growl, eyes wide with fear, but also rage. “You broke into my house!” he accused.

Agent Venom was on him in seconds, cutting him off with a clawed hand around his neck, shoving the man to the ground. “ _ **What did you do?!**_ ” they demanded. “ _ **Those weren’t the cops! Who did you call?!**_ ”

Carl’s fingers dug uselessly at Agent Venom’s hand. “S-Some lunatic—Told me Eddie would show up, eventually—Told me to call him—”

They already knew who must have sent the van, but Flash couldn’t keep himself from squeezing just a _little_ harder as they confirmed. “ _ **Who**_ **,** _”_ they hissed.

“Ma-Maker,” Carl choked, kicking weakly against symbiotic armor. “Called himself the Maker—”

“ _ **Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!**_ ” Agent Venom roared, shaking him. “ _ **He could kill Eddie! You might have just sent your own son to his death!** ”_

“Should’ve—” Carl sneered. “Should’ve thought of that before he—” the man gasped, still clawing in vain to free himself. “—Before he teamed up with wackjobs like _you!”_

At that, Agent Venom’s mouth split, stretching wide as the symbiote’s teeth emerged. Their form grew larger, bulkier, fury doubled over as they angled their gaping maw at him, poised to bite Carl’s head clean off.

“No, wait! _Please!_ ” Carl begged. “ _Don’t kill me!_ ”

Flash thought of dusty trophies, destined for the dump. All of Eddie’s effort, trying to please the coward held in their claws. All of Eddie’s anxiety at facing him again, all the hardship, all the hell he’d gone through on his own, only for Carl to turn him in the second he saw Eddie at the door.

“ **You aren’t even _worth_ it,**” Agent Venom hissed. They hefted Carl Brock over the street, chucking him at his ostentatious house.

Carl screamed, until he hit the siding. Then he collapsed on the ground in a heap. He moved. Lifted his head. Still alive.

Probably with several broken bones, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care.

Agent Venom sped to Carl Brock’s car, tugging the driver-side door open. Their form retracted just enough for them to fit inside, slamming the door shut again and grabbing the steering wheel.

“You can bond with this, right?” Flash asked.

The symbiote answered by bleeding from his hands, engulfing the entire vehicle in black. There was a rumble, entirely unlike the sound of a car starting up, more like a continuous, animalistic growl, and suddenly the gear shift shot into reverse.

They peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing as they sped off to find Eddie.


	29. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops it's Bad Guy time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably very obvious in this chapter that I hate the 'ultra genius supervillain who is always smarter than u' trope, so as punishment for being a know-it-all prick, I'm subjecting the Maker to absolute doofuses for his associates.

Eddie fought in his captors’ grasp until the drugs took hold and the world faded to black.

When he came to, he still heard shouting, but this time it was only the voice of one man, rather than the many who had been barking to grab him.

“— _Venom!_ How could you possibly screw up such a _basic_ instruction?!”

“You said to bring Venom! Everyone knows Eddie Brock is Venom!”

“Oh, _yes_ , of course. Eddie Brock is Venom,” the man who had been yelling snarled, his form a fuzzy blue and silver as Eddie tried to focus. “You do recall that Flash Thompson was _also_ Venom, as was Mac Gargan, and Lee Price—Need I go _on?”_

“...Uh—”

“Bring me the _symbiote_ ,” the man instructed, slamming the door shut on his subordinate. He took a sharp intake of breath, before letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “Honestly…”

Eddie strained, trying to see better. Trying to get up. Only, his hands were tied. He found himself flat on his back, wrists and ankles bound.

At the noise of Eddie shifting, the man turned. “Ah, finally awake, are we?”

“ _You_ ,” Eddie growled, features of an elongated, metal helmet and tight spandex suit finally coming into focus.

The Maker leaned down, smiling widely, corners of his mouth cartoonishly far apart. “Welcome back to reality, Eddie.”

For a daunting second, Eddie felt awash with cold, overwhelming dread.

No. No, that couldn’t have all been a dream. _No_. He couldn’t have been so desperate to fight reality that he’d concocted _months_ living with _Flash Thompson_.

He couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t. He’d just seen Flash. They’d been in his father’s house. He’d found the new office. He found Ms. Dempsey’s _address_ , stared at it, went to write it down, when a bunch of mooks in black crashed through the window shouting about _grabbing Venom._

But, they grabbed the wrong person.

The Maker had been shouting about bringing his symbiote. He wouldn’t have, if Flash wasn’t the current host.

He recalled Flash’s face, the genuine concern in his expression as Eddie turned away from his childhood bedroom.

He recalled Agent Venom’s eyes wide in fear and fury as they chased after the goons who grabbed him.

No, he knew _exactly_ what was going on.

Eddie glowered at the Maker. “Your fucking drugs wore off. Nice try.”

“Did they? Pity,” the man straightened up, seemingly truly disappointed as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I suppose keeping you from interfering in a _humane_ method is out of the question, after all.”

“You call that _nightmare_ realm _humane?!_ ” Eddie shouted.

“It certainly kept you distracted. I could kill you, if you prefer,” the Maker informed him. “Though, having a living symbiote host would be more beneficial to my experiment than a dead one.” He scowled at Eddie, in a way that told the bound man that he was absolutely convinced the whole matter was Eddie’s fault. “You do like to make a pest of yourself, don’t you?”

“I’m going to be a lot more than a _pest_ if you don’t tell me why the _fuck_ you want my other,” Eddie growled in return. “What are you planning? What do you even _want?!”_

“Do you want me to monologue maniacally about my master plans, Eddie? Is that it?” the Maker chuckled, moving to a table to grab something.

“Isn’t that was supervillains do?” Eddie retorted. He tugged on his restraints, trying to see just what instruments the helmet-clad man was fiddling with. He couldn’t tell, with the Maker’s back to him, but he could at least take stock of the room—The space was cramped, with metal tables and this damned slab he was tied to brought in from elsewhere. The tables against the walls held glass bottles, filled with different chemicals with names Eddie didn’t want to try pronouncing. The Maker was hardly three feet way as he worked. Not much room to maneuver, even if Eddie could get himself free.

“The ones with a modicum of actual intelligence certainly don’t,” the Maker countered idly, preparing a syringe filled with clear liquid. “And really? You think I’m a supervillain?”

“We’re in a creepy, makeshift laboratory, you’ve kidnapped me and plan to experiment on me _and_ my other for some sort of nefarious purpose, and you’re under the impression you look intimidating with a _bucket_ on your head,” Eddie listed. “I would say you check _most_ of the boxes.” He didn’t know how much time he could buy, getting the Maker to talk like this, but the guy seemed to be taking the bait, even as he proclaimed not to. Eddie tensed against the straps binding him—they were strong, but if he could get a second to _really_ tug, maybe—

The Maker hummed. “Touché.” He flicked his finger against the syringe a few times, removing any air bubbles. “I would prefer to think of myself as a _scientist_ , but to each their own.”

“Whatever you’re planning, Venom will stop you,” Eddie stated, even if he was entirely unsure of how his other would make it here. Or if Flash would get here in time to stop whatever was in that vial. More of that nightmare toxin, maybe. He swallowed, determined not to let the Maker see him squirm.

“You sound much more confident this time,” the Maker noted, smirking. “Do you really believe that?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Of course I do.”

“Oh, Eddie. Do you really think anyone would come to save you, after everything you’ve done?”

The question made Eddie go still. “What are you talking about?”

“Your _life_ , Edward Brock. From the information you _rambled_ _on_ about in your haze, and your own records, you’ve hurt quite a number of people,” the Maker grinned. “Or don’t you remember? I didn’t think I gave you _that_ high of a dose.”

Eddie bit his tongue on the notion that the Maker had a point.

“Not to mention all the pain you’ve put your precious other through,” the Maker continued. “You really think it would come to your rescue? It would certainly be convenient for me, if it did, but I’d be surprised if it wanted anything to do with you, after everything you accused of it.”

Eddie glowered. His other’s goal had been to rebond. Rebonding was the whole point of sorting out his memories. It was the whole point of living with Flash.

They’d said—They _swore_ they would have his back, they had to be—

“You’re going to have to face reality, whether you like it or not,” the Maker told him, one hand wrapping Eddie’s jaw in a vice-like grip, angling his head away to bare his neck. He moved the needle of the prepared syringe to the largest vein, one that beat erratically with Eddie’s increasingly rapid pulse. “You’re _alone._ The only person one can rely on in this world is themselves—”

A loud crash could be heard from another part of the building, the shockwaves rattling the equipment set up on the tables.

The Maker sneered, withdrawing the injection without piercing Eddie’s skin. “Case in point: I can’t trust the idiots I work with to hold down the fort for even a few _minutes._ ” He placed the syringe on a nearby tray table for the moment, fetching a hand radio and clicking it on. “What was _that?_ ”

“ _Sir, it’s—Is that a Bentley?_ ” came the confused reply. Then, the sound of gunshots. “ _Fuck, it’s Agent Venom! We—_ ”

Another gunshot, and the line went dead.

“... _Agent_ Venom?” the Maker questioned.

“Surprise,” Eddie grinned smugly, even if inwardly he felt far more relief than any sort of pride.

“...I suppose that means only the Anti-Venom is gone, rather than its host,” the Maker deduced. He regarded the syringe contemplatively for a moment, only to smile as he turned to Eddie. “I do wonder—Would Flash Thompson fare as well as you did, if injected with the toxin?”

Eddie paled, grin vanishing in an instant.

“Multiple test subjects would provide more accurate data, at any rate,” the Maker added absently.

They heard another crash, closer.

“What the hell is the toxin for?” Eddie demanded, determined to at least try to keep the villain distracted as Agent Venom made their way through the building.

“Hm? Oh, nothing, really,” the Maker shrugged. He picked up a different device, similar to the sound blaster Eddie had seen used on Agent Venom at the house. “Simply a side project that caught my interest. It’s amazing what minor changes to human brain chemistry will do to a person.”

Eddie glared hard as the Maker fiddled with settings. “They won’t let you use it again. You can’t just—”

“I can do things you couldn’t even _fathom_ , Eddie Brock,” the Maker interrupted, leaning casually against the wall as he raised the blaster. “Now then, Agent Venom was kind enough to bring the symbiote to me after my associates failed,” he grinned broadly, elongated head canting to the side. “Let’s give them a warm welcome, shall we?”

* * *

The symbiote’s connection to Eddie brought them to an abandoned warehouse. The whole building, and the smaller ones connected to it, looked old and eerie, even in the daylight. Brick and concrete stood firm, still standing even after years of neglect.

The large, first-floor windows, however, broke pretty easily when smashed with a speeding Bentley.

The symbiote didn’t bother to spare the car from any damage, metal screeching against brick. The doors were pinned shut by the window frame, but that was hardly a deterrent. The symbiote retreated from the car’s frame, reforming Agent Venom, and then ripping the roof clean off.

They jumped out of the car, finding plenty of surprised mooks staring in their direction. But no Maker. No Eddie.

Immediately, their adversaries opened fire, not quite getting that firing _bullets_ at Venom was a waste of time at best. A dangerous distraction at worst, as the guards soon realized, taken out by expert shots from Flash’s own handgun. Agent Venom charged through the warehouse, following the symbiote’s sense of where its other was.

“Fuck, it’s Agent Venom!” one of the men yelled into a hand radio. “We—”

Agent Venom shot him in the shoulder, and he dropped the radio with a cry of pain.

Peter’s suspicions had been right, at least, Flash realized. This place was big, connected to other buildings, with different floors. Plenty of room to section off lab equipment and run whatever dastardly experiments the Maker had in store.

 _ **That way!**_ the symbiote urged, orienting them in the direction of a door at the far end of the building.

Flash ran, not bothering to slow as they barreled through the door, moving without thinking. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to imagine what could have occurred—what experiments might have already happened with the time they’d lost tracking the place down. It hadn’t been much time, but it would take even less to inject Eddie with more of the drugs that brought him to Flash in the first place. If they hadn’t done it already.

Eddie might already be lost to nightmares _again_ —

Agent Venom let out a growl as they tackled down the door. Stop. Stop thinking. Stop thinking and _run._

_**Flash!** _

They came to a stop halfway down the hall, turning to look at a branch to their right. Flash could feel the symbiote tugging, drawn to the door at the end.

_**Eddie’s in there—but...** _

Agent Venom’s eyes narrowed.

With their luck, so was the Maker.

But, surely the Maker knew they were here by now, with the racket they’d caused. He hadn’t bothered to reveal himself. There was a slim chance he wasn’t even here.

Much as they wanted to kick the door down, the symbiote’s trepidation gave them pause. This wasn’t some gun-for-hire goon they could just shoot and be done with. This was supervillain-level stuff. Eddie might be injured, or—

They’d have to be more cautious.

Flash wasn’t great at cautious, barely settling for approaching the door at a quick, quiet walk, gun raised. ‘ _You’re sure Eddie’s in there?_ ’

_**Positive.** _

Agent Venom stopped just next to the door, back to the wall, eyeing the handle.

‘ _Check the interior_ ,’ Flash told his partner. ‘ _Should be fine, if you’re camouflaged._ ’

A tendril stretched from their boot, instantly vanishing against the concrete floor. It slipped under the door, the symbiote relaying the visual information back to Flash as the veteran shut his eyes.

The room inside was cleaner than the rest of the building, and a large table sat in the center, with a man—Eddie, had to be—strapped to it. To the right of the table was a pair of boots, covered by a tight, blue suit.

It looked up to see the Maker, staring right back at it, a smug smile stretched across his lips.

Flash’s eyes snapped open in alarm, shifting to move, only to spot the door lurching open from the inside.

And then, a shrill, piercing blast of sound, like knives in his ears. Flash felt his legs collapse, felt the symbiote writhing in agony, pain lancing through their form as tendrils flailed out of control. There was another sound, he thought, shouting maybe, but he couldn’t hear the words over the screeching. Couldn’t focus with all his nerves lit up like a lightning strike.

The symbiote fell from Flash, a weakened puddle of black beneath him as he tried to push himself upright again.

“A clever trick, Thompson, but I’m afraid tricks are no match for genuine intellect.”

Flash winced, grimacing as he looked up.

The Maker grinned, blaster still level with Flash’s head. “So glad you could join us, _Agent._ ”


	30. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie, Flash, and the symbiote do some fighting, fleeing, and...another thing that might start with F

Flash tried to pick himself off the ground, only for the Maker’s gloved hand to grab his throat. He was slammed against the wall, pinned there by squeezing fingers. ‘ _Shit,_ ’ Flash thought, blunt nails scratching at the Maker’s stretched arm to no avail.

“I have to admit, Venom hosts certainly are persistent,” the Maker observed, plainly amused as Flash glowered and gasped for air. “A shame you’re all persistently _stupid._ ”

From behind the Maker, Flash could hear Eddie, bound and struggling. Shouting for Venom. He had to be less than ten feet from where the Maker jumped them.

So _close_.

“Now then,” the Maker muttered to himself, leveling his blaster at the weakened symbiote. He contemplated its form for a moment, only to stretch his free arm, setting the blaster down and retrieving his hand radio. He clicked it on with a frown. “One of you, get down here. I unfortunately require another set of hands.”

“I’ll tear you apart, Richards!” Eddie shouted from behind him.

The Maker grimaced, turning to address him. “I told you I’m not the Richards _you_ know—”

“I don’t give a shit!” Eddie countered. “I’ll rip you to pieces!”

With an unimpressed huff, the Maker returned his attention to Flash. “Quite the crew, aren’t you? Did none of you think I would have preparations in place for dealing with the symbiote?”

Flash only glared, still prying at the Maker’s elongated fingers around his neck, silenced.

“On a lesser adversary, sending in the symbiote first might have been a good plan,” the Maker gloated. “However,” he smiled widely, tapping the side of his helmet. “A simple heat sensor does _wonders_ for getting past its camouflaging abilities.”

“Shut your mouth before I punch that grin off your fucking face, you pretentious prick!” Eddie yelled.

“Do you _ever_ shut up?” the Maker inquired, turning his head back to look inside the room again.

“Fuck you!”

Flash cursed along with Eddie, inwardly. The Maker was right—They should have expected he’d have some counters. Should have expected retaliation. Hell, even if they didn’t know the Maker had contacted Carl Brock, they should’ve had a _plan_ of some sort, right? All they had was ‘get to California, punch the Maker in the face.’ _Then_ what? He’d always been so good at winging it, but now he couldn’t even reach the ground, thighs kicking against the wall and empty air, the symbiote so _far_.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Boots. One of the Maker’s associates, responding to the call.

“Finally,” the Maker sneered.

A man in what looked like riot gear and armed with an assault rifle jogged up to the scene, only to pause in bewilderment at the sight of Flash Thompson, in his boxers, and a subdued symbiote in a puddle on the ground. “Uh—?”

The Maker tossed Flash a short distance down the hall, to his associate. “Keep him contained for a moment.”

Flash coughed, struggling to get air back into his lungs and fend off the mook at the same time. The other man managed to catch Flash’s wrist after a missed punch, twisting his arm behind his back before securing the other. Flash growled, slamming his head backward, only to hit painfully against his adversary’s helmet.

“That’s _enough!_ ” the mook said, shoving Flash forward as he forced the veteran to the ground.

Flash craned his neck to see the Maker grabbing part of the symbiote, shoving it into a glass container. “ _Venom!_ ”

“Your little friend is fine, only stunned,” the Maker assured Flash, scooping the last bit of symbiote inside and sealing the opening with a metal lid.

“You want me to tie this guy up?” the mook asked.

“That won’t be necessary,” the Maker responded, clutching the contained symbiote in one hand, and gripping Flash’s neck again with the other. Once it was clear Flash was secured, the mook let go, letting the Maker yank the veteran upright again.

“Bas—Bastard—” Flash managed.

“Go watch Brock,” the Maker told his associate. “He’s bound, so you shouldn’t be able to screw _that_ up.” He missed the other man’s fist clench in annoyance, wholly focused on securing Flash and the symbiote as he strode away from the room.

“Get back over here so I can shove that stupid helmet up your ass!” Eddie shouted.

The Maker paused, turning back. “On second thought, sedate him. I don’t need him making a racket while I run my experiments. The sedative is already in the syringe.” With that, he dragged Flash down the hallway, Eddie’s yells growing quieter as they moved to another part of the warehouse.

* * *

“ _God_ , what a fucking _prick_ ,” the mook muttered as he walked into the room. He glanced at Eddie, still struggling against his bonds, and then caught sight of the tray table, syringe full of sedative in plain view.

“What are you planning?!” Eddie growled. “What does Project Oversight want with my symbiote?!”

“I’m just a hired gun, man. I don’t know anything about Oversight,” the mook answered. “The Maker’s got some weird bigger scheme going on. Mumbling about multiverses and shit.” He shrugged, moving to put the needle of the syringe to Eddie’s arm. “Above my paygrade, and my _intellect_ , if you go by what he says.”

“Wait, wait, _wait_ —!” Eddie pleaded, trying to shuffle away from the needle. “He’s threatening the multiverse—so _our universe_ , and you only care about the money?!”

The mook paused at the question, thinking. “...Well, yeah, I’ve got student loans—”

“You’re working for a literal supervillain,” Eddie told him.

“He is a dick, but that’s not—”

“You’re going to just let him get away with all this?” Eddie questioned, jumping on the other man’s sudden hesitance. “He’ll use you like a pawn in his plan to destroy the universe, and you’re just going to mindlessly obey him?”

“Jesus, you really do talk a lot,” the mook observed, straightening up again. He glanced at the door, then looked around, checking the room for something. After a moment, he looked to Eddie again. “Look, I know he doesn’t give a shit about any of us. Pretty clear we’re _beneath_ his _majesty_. But, he’s a client—They’re all jackasses.”

Eddie watched as the mook’s gaze dropped to the syringe again. “Let me out and I’ll punch him for you.”

“What?” the mook snorted. “And risk my neck for letting you go? No thanks.”

“Say I broke out with superhuman strength and stole your gun,” Eddie told him. “We don’t have to do this the hard way. I’ll take out the Maker, and you’ll be responsible for helping _save_ the multiverse, instead of destroying it.”

The other man stood in silence, contemplating the offer. He raised the syringe. “I’m gonna inject you with this now.”

“No!” Eddie protested, trying to tug free of the straps binding him again.

“If I do this, I earn my pay, and if the multiverse ends, then I won’t have to pay my student loans at all,” the mook explained, inserting the needle into Eddie’s arm.

Eddie snarled until the syringe was removed, sedative pushed into his system. He strained against the straps binding him to the table. One more good tug had to do it—He needed to be strong enough. He needed to break out _now_ , if he was going to have any chance. He didn’t have time. The sedative was going to kick in, and then he’d be unconscious, and then Flash and his other would be—

He pulled with all his might, and the strap snapped.

“Oh,” the mook said, just as Eddie grabbed him by his body armor and hurled him out of the room.

Eddie hadn’t bought much time with the maneuver, but it was enough to undo the straps on his feet. He hopped off the table just as the mook returned, this time with his gun raised. Eddie grabbed the tray table, tossing it at the other man as a distraction. As the man fell again with a yelp, Eddie freed himself from the final strap.

“Damn it—!” the mook yelled, squirming out from beneath the tray table.

Eddie charged forward, grabbing the other man’s gun before he could raise it again. He yanked it out of the mook’s hands, and then stomped down, pinning his adversary with his foot. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Eddie told him, and then slammed down on the mook’s head with the butt of the gun.

The mook collapsed to the ground, splayed out like he was unconscious. Difficult to tell with the helmet, but at least he wasn’t moving.

Eddie looked down the hallway, unsure of how much time he had until the sedative fully kicked in. He felt a little off, but not woozy yet. There might not be time to find Flash and his other before he dropped. He might not even stay awake long enough to fight the Maker. They had to get _out_ of here.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie ran.

* * *

Flash was brought to another room, similar to the one where Eddie was kept, though more spacious. This one had a hefty desk with cabinets against the wall, in addition to another table with straps built into it. Flash choked as the Maker’s grip tightened, hefting him up and onto the table.

The container holding the symbiote was placed on the desk. Then, the Maker elongated one arm, wrapping it around Flash’s throat in place of his hand so he no longer had to grip it. Hands free, he set about securing the straps around Flash’s flailing wrists.

‘ _Damn stretchy bastard—_ ’ Flash thought, unable to evade the elastic appendages. He grabbed hold of one of the Maker’s wrists, only for it to keep stretching, looping around to snag Flash’s in turn. Within seconds, he was strapped down.

“This will all go much smoother if you _cooperate_ , Thompson,” the Maker scolded, arms retracting to normal. As the veteran gasped for air, the Maker move away from him, approaching the cabinets above the desk. He opened one, rifling through several different bottles.

“Y-You didn’t drug Eddie again?” Flash coughed out, feigning bravado. “Plan didn’t work, huh?”

“I assume you’re referring to the neurotoxin I used to warp Eddie’s perception of reality,” the Maker commented nonchalantly, pulling out a bottle. He smirked to Flash as he held it up. “This one, in particular.”

Flash’s blood ran cold at the sight of it. Just a nondescript bottle of orange liquid. Nothing special. No skull on the label or anything to mark it as dangerous.

Flash recalled Eddie breaking down on his couch, false memories tearing his psyche to pieces, convincing him the bond with his other never existed.

“While I’ve enlisted plenty of mercenaries for the drudgery of my operation, I haven’t been able to find many... _willing_ test subjects, as of yet,” the Maker explained, placing the bottle next to the symbiote. He opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a bag of syringes. “I have to thank you for allowing me to collect more data.”

The symbiote shook in its container.

The noise caught the Maker’s attention. “Starting to recover, are you?” he asked.

“What do you want with it?” Flash questioned, voice raspy. “What the hell is your game?!”

The Maker hummed. “I suppose it isn’t just Brock. Perhaps hosting the symbiote has a side-effect of making hosts obnoxiously chatty.”

“Answer the question, asshole!”

“There’s no need—It isn’t as though you’d be able to understand my plan,” the Maker scoffed, examining the glass container.

The symbiote smacked a tendril weakly against the interior.

“That’s a quicker recovery rate than expected. Interesting,” the Maker murmured. “Well, no matter. We’ll have you in a more secure container soon enough.” He resumed his task, taking out a syringe to extract the neurotoxin.

Flash’s legs weren’t bound, but he was still reduced to squirming. He managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position while the Maker’s back was turned, tugging again on the restraints. Nothing. He looked wildly around the room. Nothing close enough to him to grab. Door shut. Eddie out there, in the other room, possibly sedated.

Flash didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what he _could_ do. He’d come here, intending to rescue Eddie, and now he was stuck to a table and _useless—_

“I wouldn’t recommend sitting up while the neurotoxin is at work,” the Maker said, standing with syringe at the ready, and an irritated frown on his lips.

“If you think I’m just gonna _let_ you—” Flash began, cut off as the Maker grabbed his jaw. He tried to shake free, leaning away, only for the appendage to grow more rigid as the Maker approached.

“A word of advice, Thompson,” the Maker sneered, needle poised at Flash’s neck. “If you know who you’ll be facing off against—say, a symbiote and its idiotic hosts— it’s far wiser to have some sort of _plan_ to account for any potential liabilities.”

“Didn’t account for _me_ , though, did you?” came Eddie’s voice, from the hall, just before the door was kicked open.

“Brock—?!” the Maker uttered. “How did you—?!”

Eddie leaned heavily against the doorframe, unsteady, answering with his pilfered assault rifle.

The bullets missed the Maker’s stretching evasive maneuvers, but the Maker himself clearly wasn’t Eddie’s target. Instead, it was the glass container holding the symbiote, which shattered on impact.

The Maker let out a frustrated snarl, free hand zipping to grab the gun from Eddie. They struggled against each other, Eddie slumping more against the doorframe but still tightly gripping the gun. The Maker glanced back to the broken container, to the symbiote.

Only, the symbiote wasn’t on the desk.

“You can’t hide from me—” the Maker started, only to halt, looking down.

On the Maker’s legs, his blue bodysuit shimmered, suddenly black as the symbiote covered his body.

“No!” the Maker roared, dropping the syringe and his grip on the rifle as he tried to fight it off. He tore at it with his hands, only succeeding in becoming more tangled in the symbiote’s tendrils, more bound as he stumbled away from the table.

Eddie pushed himself off the doorframe, steps heavy and uncoordinated as he made his way to Flash. He grimaced once he latched onto the edge of it, dropping the gun on the floor, and then trying to undo the straps around Flash’s wrists. He cursed as his fingers fumbled, shaking his head.

“Eddie!” Flash hissed, but then his attention was drawn to a screech behind him.

The symbiote had wrapped itself almost completely around the Maker, slamming his flailing, stretched limbs into the cabinets, breaking everything they came in contact with, and forcing his legs to propel them sporadically around the room.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie groaned, slumping forward, one hand gripping his hand. “I can’t—”

“Eddie, c’mon,” Flash urged, his voice full of panic. He didn’t know how the hell Eddie managed to get here while sedated, but it was clear he was fading fast. “Just one—Just get one undone!”

Eddie leaned most of his weight on the table, looking to where the symbiote was crashing the Maker into the opposite wall. “Darling, a little help?!”

The Maker’s head was shoved through the plaster, at an angle. As the symbiote withdrew from him, he tried to pull back out, elongated helmet thunking against the unbroken part of the wall.

The symbiote reached for Eddie, latching onto his outstretched hand and sinking under his skin.

Flash watched as it spread over Eddie’s face, mouth elongating and stretching into a familiar, toothy grin. He shrank back as Venom growled, shaking their head, still affected by the sedative, but not enough to prevent their claws from shredding through the straps on Flash’s wrists.

The Maker, meanwhile, had opted for punching through the plaster around his trapped head, weakening the wall.

“Fuck,” Flash breathed. He reached out for his partner. “Venom— _Woah!_ ”

Venom hefted Flash into their arms, and then bolted out the door.

“What are you doing?!” Flash yelled. “He’s gonna come after us!”

“ _ **Can’t fight him like this!** ”_ they answered, charging through the hallway.

“Bond with _me_ , then!” Flash argued. “Let me help!”

“ _ **Faster this way!**_ ” Venom rumbled, shielding Flash’s head and running straight for a window. They crashed through it, rolling when they hit the ground. Then they were up again, looking around the lot surrounding the warehouse. There were a few trucks, and vans, probably belonging to the Maker’s hired guns. They made their way over to them, feet pounding against dirt and dead grass.

“Venom—” Flash protested, all but thrown into the passenger seat of a truck. He grunted, sitting up as Venom clambered inside.

The symbiote bled away from Eddie and into the steering wheel, and the engine roared to life.

Eddie, however, slumped to the side, unconscious.

“Fuck,” Flash said again, flailing for his seatbelt as the truck lurched into reverse, and then turned, speeding out of the lot.

* * *

After a couple hours of driving, leaving the truck in the middle of nowhere, absconding with yet another abandoned car, and filtering out the sedative, the team finally made it back to their motel.

While Eddie was clearly reluctant, he did, ultimately, let the symbiote return to Flash without protest. Not even a mumbled admonishment for none of them thinking bringing Flash’s prosthetics would be a good idea. In hindsight, they absolutely should have, but for now they were back at their motel room, still riding high on adrenaline as they surreptitiously slipped inside.

This time, they both checked for tails.

“Fucking hell,” Flash growled, only midly put at ease when they’d determined they weren’t followed. “What a shitshow.”

“The bastard’s too conniving,” Eddie grunted, turning to walk toward the other side of the room.

“Is that why you just gave up and _ran?_ ” Flash accused, rounding on Eddie with a glare.

“Excuse me?” Eddie grimaced.

“You picked me up and _ran away!_ Both of you!” Flash snapped, ignoring the alarmed confusion emanating from the symbiote. “Why the fuck didn’t you _fight_ him?!”

_**Flash—** _

“I’d been drugged, and _you,_ ” Eddie started, jabbing a finger into Flash’s chest, “got _blasted_ the second you got to the Maker!”

“So what?!” Flash shot back, angry at the reminder. “We’ve been in tighter spots than that—!”

“He had sonic guns! He could take my other out in an instant and we—”

“He didn’t have one _then!_ We could’ve fought him!” the veteran continued, grabbing the front of Eddie’s shirt in his hands. “But you ran away and now he’s still _out_ there! You think he’s not gonna try to chase us after all that?!”

“ **Stop fighting!** ” the symbiote hissed, tendrils tensing over Flash’s arms to keep them from moving. To keep them from rearing back and punching Eddie, really, as Flash’s anger boiled over.

“You almost got injected with that nightmare toxin!” Eddie retorted, looming over him. “We were _outgunned_ —We didn’t want to lose _you!_ ”

“I didn’t want to lose you either, you fucking _jackass!_ ” Flash shouted, fingers curling tighter on Eddie’s shirt. “I almost did! Who knows what he wants to do to you now?! He could’ve given you that neurotoxin again, and then we would’ve been back at square fucking _one!”_ He snarled in frustration, hanging his head. “ _God,_ I don’t know if I wanna kiss you for being okay or just _deck_ you for letting the Maker go!”

The look in Eddie’s eyes shifted at the exclamations, brow furrowing.

“ **Flash—?** ”

“Now he’s still fucking _out_ there, after _all_ of us!” Flash persisted. “He’s still a threat, and my partner’s in danger, and _you’re—_ ”

“What _about_ me, Thompson?” Eddie growled, his hands wrapping tight around Flash’s wrists.

“I just wanted to—I...” Flash faltered, face only inches away from Eddie’s, glaring into burning blue.

“Punch me?” Eddie asked. “Or kiss me? That’s what you said, right?” His grip was solid, forcing Flash to keep close. Close enough to remind him why he hadn’t wanted to be in this proximity to Eddie the past couple days.

Eddie was an idiot. Irascible, irresponsible, and impetuous, nearly getting them _all_ killed with his stunt with the rifle.

But they were safe. Flash was safe. Their partner was safe. Eddie was safe.

And Eddie was inches away, attractive as hell, with a challenge in his eyes that dared Flash to try something. Anything.

So Flash tugged Eddie down, and kissed him.

The instant their lips met, Flash realized what he was doing. He stiffened in place, knowing he’d fucked up whatever relationship they’d had, that he needed to step back and apologize _now_ , before—

Eddie’s hands drifted behind Flash’s arms, pulling him in as he deepened the kiss.

Flash let out a soft moan, fingers scrambling over Eddie’s shoulders, feeling a deep, satisfied purr from the symbiote at the development. The noise shuddered up Flash’s spine, and his lips parted in a gasp.

A gasp that Eddie took full advantage of, pushing Flash up against the wall and licking into the veteran’s mouth.

It was at that point that Flash knew he was utterly, thoroughly screwed. There was no pretending he wasn’t attracted to Eddie now. No point, either, finding the other man just as eager to drag his hands down Flash’s sides to squeeze at his hips.

This stupid, attractive, pain in the _ass_ of a man, pinning Flash to the wall, tongue down his throat, big and warm and strong and _safe_.

‘ _Safe,_ ’ Flash thought again with relief, moaning against Eddie’s mouth as the other man pressed up against him. They were safe. All of them. Eddie had been spared another bad drug trip. Knew Flash was alive. Trusted him.

 _Wanted_ him, thigh sliding between Flash’s legs.

It felt good. It felt _too_ good, too good to stop, high off relief and adrenaline, and Flash gripped the back of Eddie’s neck, even as the other man gasped for air against his lips.

Eddie looked down at him, eyes stormy with an altogether different kind of frustration. He was breathing harder, reddened lips quirked up in a smirk that made Flash want to drag his teeth over them. “What was it you were saying?” Eddie asked. “What did you want, Flash?”

 _ **More**_ , his partner urged, voice a deep rumble, tendrils extending to wrap themselves over Eddie’s arms, keeping the men in place.

“More,” Flash agreed, mumbling the words into Eddie’s mouth as they kissed again. “We want _more._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap for Act One! Thanks so much to everyone for reading this far! As was probably made obvious by this chapter being late, I am completely out of buffer, so I’m going to be taking a bit of a hiatus with this fic while I build it up again. Not sure how long it will last, but definitely no longer than a month. 
> 
> As for Eddie and Flash’s ~shenanigans~ alluded to at the end here, I decided a while ago that I’m not going to have any explicit sex in the main fic, so it’ll be fade-to-black moments within OMH itself. I am going to try my hand at writing those scenes, but they’ll just be...elsewhere lol
> 
> At any rate, thank you all again for reading, and thank you for your patience as I get cracking on Act Two!


	31. [A2] Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash doesn't know how to handle what just happened, so he falls back on their initial plan for Cali. Time to settle Eddie's memories once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AW YE IT’S TIME TO START ACT 2 OF THIS MONSTER. Unfortunately January was a lot busier than I anticipated, so I’m gonna be doing an update every OTHER week until my buffer is more robust.  
> If anyone’s curious, Act 1 in my notes is titled “Eddie is a Fucking Mess.” Now it’s Flash’s turn. Have I mentioned lately Flash is an idiot? Flash is an idiot.
> 
> Also there’s like nothing I could find about Ms. Dempsey after she gives that heartfelt retelling of Eddie’s childhood to Spider-Man??? Where the fuck did she go, Marvel???? Let people give a shit about Eddie!!!!

The water pressure in the shower was weak. It was enough to clean himself, if Flash scrubbed, but not enough to overpower the phantom feelings of Eddie’s hands on his skin. Certainly not enough to banish the thought of Eddie’s voice in his ear, low and husky, moaning in his grasp.

Flash turned the knob to decrease the temperature, cold water dousing his flushed, overheated body.

‘ _I had sex with Eddie last night,_ ’ he thought to himself, brain foggy, still slow on the uptake.

 _ **We**_ , the symbiote corrected, comfortable and sedate in the corner of Flash’s mind.

‘ _We had sex with him_ ,’ Flash amended, eyes shut as the water dripped over his face.

God, what the _fuck_ was he _thinking?_

The answer, of course, was that he hadn’t been thinking. He hadn’t thought during the moment. Hardly cared with how good it felt. With how good _Eddie_ felt.

 _Now_ what?

They still had to deal with the Maker. They still had to find Ms. Dempsey and finish fixing Eddie’s memories. Flash agreed to keep helping after this mission, as a friend. As a role model, practically, of someone who had his shit together and wasn’t making stupid, impulsive decisions after a challenging glare and an admittedly sexy smirk.

‘ _Fuck._ ’

A disgruntled rumble emanated from the base of Flash’s skull. _**What’s wrong?**_

“Shouldn’t have done it,” Flash uttered quietly, rubbing his face with his hands.

 _ **We wanted to**_ , his partner pointed out, confused. _**Eddie wanted to.**_

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t just complicate our entire relationship,” Flash grumbled, reaching for the shampoo.

They were _friends_ , dammit. They weren’t supposed to be anything other than that. Flash was supposed to be helping Eddie achieve some level of _stability_ in his life. _Normalcy_. With normal friends and plain, platonic emotional support, not idiots who couldn’t help jumping him the second Eddie gave the okay. Not throwing curveballs into their whole dynamic, making a mess of their boundaries until even Flash didn’t know where the lines were.

 _ **Why is it complicated?**_ the symbiote questioned. _**You are friends who had sex. Simple.**_

“It just makes everything stupid,” Flash murmured, keeping his voice low, hoping the water hitting the porcelain was loud enough to cover their conversation. “It should be simple. It should just be sex.” He grimaced as he washed his hair out. His partner had a point—It _could_ be simple. It could be just that. Sex with a friend. Nothing more. He could handle that—he’d had relationships like that before, hadn’t he?

Granted, the last one he could recall was a cringe-worthy, corrective shout about how Valkyrie was a friend with benefits, _not_ his girlfriend, as he’d previously stated. A shout addressed to a group of enemies they were actively _fighting_ , at the time, embarrassingly.

Labels were not kind to him. The process of defining relationships, even less so.

He couldn’t help but feel _something_ had changed between him and Eddie, irreparably, and now the question of how to act around the man was spiking his anxiety through the fucking roof.

“...I don’t want any misunderstandings or weird expectations, for either of us,” Flash decided with a sigh. “It’s not like I’m looking to date him.”

_**Talk to Eddie about how you feel, then.** _

Flash froze. “No, we are not gonna do that.”

 _ **Why not?**_ the symbiote grumbled back.

“Oh my god, I am not gonna have a ‘ _what are we’_ conversation with Eddie after a...I don’t know, a _fluke_ ,” Flash hissed, eyes stinging from shampoo. “What am I, in high school?”

A fluke was all it was. Had to be. It would, in all likelihood, never happen again. Not without the perfect storm of fear and relief and adrenaline throwing them at each other until they finally collided.

 _ **You’re right,**_ his partner huffed, _**This is stupid. You are being stupid.**_

Flash grunted, washing the suds out of his hair. “Look, we had a thing last night, now it’s done. Now we move on, like adults, and get back to the task at hand. There. See? Back to simple, and everything’s _fine._ ”

He could do this. It was simple, physical attraction, out of his system, and now they could get back to the real reason they were in this motel. No big deal. It didn’t have to be complicated. He could just make it _not_ be complicated. No more distractions.

Flash opened the bathroom door, and immediately found himself distracted by the sight Eddie sitting on the bed, tying his shoes. He stared, unable to tear his eyes from the small, purple-blue bruise just under the edge of Eddie’s jaw.

‘ _I gave him a fucking hickey_ ,’ Flash realized.

 _ **That’s not the only one**_ , the symbiote noted, smug and unhelpful.

Flash’s face burned like a furnace.

Eddie looked up briefly, perfectly unbothered. “Hey.”

‘ _Don’t make it awkward, idiot_ ,’ Flash scolded himself, dragging his eyes away from where the neck of Eddie’s shirt hid the other marks. The situation was only going to be awkward if he made it awkward, which was exactly what he was currently doing, gawking at Eddie like a fool.

 _ **Talk about last night**_ , the symbiote prompted.

“You wanna go find Ms. Dempsey?” Flash asked, ignoring his partner, desperate to talk about literally anything else. ”You got the address, right?”

A look of confusion passed over Eddie’s face, but then he nodded. “I remember the street name. It isn’t far.”

“Cool, let’s do that and then get the hell back to New York,” Flash suggested quickly. “I don’t wanna stay here any longer than we have to with the Maker’s goons looking for us.”

Eddie studied him for a moment, pondering over some internal deliberation of his own. He grabbed Flash’s old hoodie from his backpack, tugging it on before addressing Flash again. “Sure.”

* * *

On the way to Ms. Dempsey’s neighborhood, neither man brought up the previous night. Flash kept waiting for it, tense, expecting the next words out of Eddie’s mouth to be some sort of teasing question—some snarky remark or another to bring the topic up, to watch Flash squirm. It didn’t help that Eddie had his hood pulled up over his head, expression hidden from the side as they walked.

Eddie would turn on occasion, glancing at Flash every so often, but said nothing. Infuriatingly unreadable.

 _ **Eddie is fine. Just talk**_ , the symbiote bemoaned impatiently. _**Use your stupid words.**_

‘ _Thought we decided we were done with this? Moving on?_ ’

 _ **You decided**_ , it scoffed.

Flash’s fists clenched as they walked. This mission was about fixing Eddie’s memories, not the attraction that had burgeoned in the interim. They had to concentrate. The Maker and Project Oversight were still _out_ there.

He tried to ignore the uncomfortable prodding of the symbiote. He tried harder to ignore his own, gnawing inner voice, chiming in with _excuses, excuses._

They came upon a quaint neighborhood, not at all like Eddie’s old home. The houses here had variety in sizes and shapes instead of perfectly copy-pasted cut-outs. No gargantuan mansions around the corner either, for that matter. The trees stretched well beyond the sidewalk, forcing both men to duck every so often. Flash guessed there weren’t many yard regulations, considering one lawn contained more ceramic gnomes than actual grass.

There were also distinctly far more people milling about, enjoying the refreshing morning weather.

“Do you see her house?” Flash asked, eyeing a man pushing a mower.

“We’re close, I think,” Eddie answered. “I don’t remember the exact house number.”

“Great,” Flash groaned. Knocking on peoples’ doors asking after Ms. Dempsey was going to draw attention. Attention they did not need, with the Maker combing the area for them. Or, for the symbiote. Bastard still hadn’t said exactly what he wanted with any of them.

“Wait,” Eddie demanded, stopping in his tracks. His eyes were wide, incredulous, as he looked up the street.

An eldery woman had emerged from her house, dressed in a thin, flowery robe, shuffling slowly to her mailbox.

“Is that…?” Flash started, only to find there had been no need for him to ask. He watched as Eddie approached, the large man’s movements almost as slow as hers, like he was warily approaching a dangerous animal. Flash grimaced, following, trying to get a good look at the woman.

She tucked a lock of gray, wavy hair behind her ear as she sifted through her mail. She was old. Frail. Non-threatening.

And yet, Flash could feel Eddie’s nerves radiating off of him.

 _ **Hasn’t seen her in years**_ , his partner provided, sensing Flash’s confusion at the threat the woman posed. _**Isn’t sure how she’ll react.**_

“Ms. Dempsey?”

Ms. Dempsey looked up through circular glasses, her blue eyes magnified by the thick lenses. At the sight of Eddie, she gasped, drawing a hand to her mouth in shock.

The journalist seemed to shrink at the reaction. “It’s me, Eddie—”

“I know who you are,” Ms. Dempsey interrupted, clutching her mail to her chest, “But whatever are you doing _here?_ ”

“I only want to talk,” Eddie assured her, hands up in a placating gesture. “Just a few questions, and then I’ll leave, I promise.”

She looked behind him confusedly, to Flash. “And you? Who are you?”

“Flash Thompson, ma’am,” the veteran introduced himself, walking up to stand by Eddie’s side. “I’m, uh...”

“He’s a friend,” Eddie supplied.

Flash swallowed thickly, hoping he was masking his own surprise at hearing the phrase from Eddie himself.

“We only need a few moments of your time,” Eddie continued. “Please.”

Ms. Dempsey’s eyes flicked between the pair of men, but her gaze soon rested on Eddie, lingering. Flash couldn’t see Eddie’s expression from where he stood, but something about it must have left some impression on the woman, her own face full of concern. She turned halfway back to her house, beckoning for the two of them to follow. “Let’s not stand around outside,” she told them. “Come in, dear, come in.”

Eddie followed immediately, while Flash hesitated. The veteran glanced around for any other neighbors. The man mowing his lawn wasn’t paying any attention to them. There was a woman watching her children play, a little further. She stared back at Flash, but only in curiosity, or perhaps wariness for her childrens’ sake. At least, Flash hoped it was only curiosity. They didn’t need anyone making any phone calls.

‘ _Ms. Dempsey might have been given the same number to call_ ,’ he noted nervously as he trailed after Eddie.

_**She can’t call anyone while we’re watching. Let’s go.** _

Still on edge, Flash went inside.

While Carl Brock kept a clean home, almost to the point of sterile, Ms. Dempsey’s was far more lived-in. A jacket on the banister, shoes and slippers all in a pile by the door. Framed photos and paintings adorned the walls—A cluster of photos, really, of a large extended family, as opposed to Carl’s solitary family portrait in the foyer. It was warm inside, but not overly so, the windows open to let in a light, pleasant breeze.

‘ _How sure are we that she’s not gonna pull out a gun or something?_ ’ Flash inquired, uncertain if he could let his guard down among all the homely trinkets laid out. A decorative dish wasn’t a likely potential weapon, but he didn’t know anything about this woman beyond her slim relation to Eddie.

 _ **Was always kind to Eddie and Mary**_ , the symbiote recalled, nudging them forward. _**Probably fine**_.

Flash frowned, not liking the ‘probably’ but hopeful that this interaction would go more smoothly. Even a smidge more smoothly.

The bar was pretty low, at this point.

Ms. Dempsey ushered them into a room just off the little cozy kitchen, gesturing for the two men to take a seat at a simple, wooden dining table. “Go on and make yourselves comfortable,” she said, putting her mail down and busying herself by pulling a colorful mug from one of the cabinets. “Would either of you like any tea? I brewed a pot a few minutes ago.”

Eddie shared a baffled look with Flash as he sat down, also not anticipating hospitality. “We’d only intended to stay for a short while.”

Ms. Dempsey frowned at him, simply holding her mug for a moment. “Could you take the hood off?” she requested. “I’d like a better look at you.”

Eddie hesitated, but complied, pulling the hood down slowly.

Ms. Dempsey regarded him in silence. One of her hands drifted over her heart as she uttered, “Goodness, you look so different...”

“It’s been a while,” Eddie observed quietly.

“Over ten years,” she muttered softly, still staring at him, like Eddie would vanish if she looked away. “Must you leave in such a hurry?”

The question caught Eddie off-guard, and he faltered.

“You want us to stay?” Flash inquired for him.

“I haven’t seen him since his father barred him from the house,” Ms. Dempsey said, brows drawn together in distress. “Oh, Eddie, what’s happened to you?” she asked, her quavering voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright?”

Flash’s lips parted, not expecting the concerned queries. From the stricken look on Eddie’s face, he guessed Eddie hadn’t, either. The symbiote, too, was quiet in Flash’s mind, only radiating a soft, bittersweet surprise.

“I’m…” Eddie began, only to look away, clearly unsure of how to answer. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Some... _things_ have happened in the past few months, which affected my memory,” he started gently, as though testing the waters. Waiting for the concern in his old housekeeper’s eyes to dissipate into something less sympathetic. “I was hoping you could clarify an incident from my childhood.”

The words did not relax the woman, her grip tight on her mug. “I can certainly try,” she offered. “What incident?”

Flash watched as Eddie took a breath. This was it. The final, godforsaken mutilated memory.

“The car crash,” Eddie stated. “When I was young.”

Recognition dawned in Ms. Dempsey’s eyes, instantly. “Oh...Yes, I recall.”

“Was I in the street?”

“Yes,” Ms. Dempsey confirmed. With a sigh, she moved again, shoulders drooping as she poured herself some of the tea. “You’d been playing outside. I don’t remember the reason you’d run into the street, but you were so small—The driver was speeding—They flew around the corner and didn’t see you.”

“My father was there, too,” Eddie added pensively.

“Your father ran outside when he saw the car, but…” Ms. Dempsey’s brows furrowed, briefly, in some unsaid show of anger as she added sugar. The expression faded the second she turned to Eddie, her eyes mournful all over again. “...We weren’t quick enough. You were in the hospital for ages, and stuck inside even longer. I can’t say I’m surprised you don’t remember much from back then.”

Some of the tension left Flash’s shoulders at the confirmation. Definitely happened when Eddie was a kid, just as the symbiote had said. Everything should be back in order.

Eddie, though, was frowning, dissatisfied.

“Was there something else?” Ms. Dempsey prompted, also noticing the man’s dour expression.

“...I also recall hitting a child, when I was a bit older,” Eddie explained, looking doubtful as he did. “Driving drunk with my friends in the backseat. I would have been in high school.”

“What on _earth—?_ ” Ms. Dempsey breathed.

“That memory’s probably fake, though,” Flash elaborated quickly. “Somebody implanted it.”

“I should say so!” Ms. Dempsey declared, aghast. Angry, even, as she addressed Eddie. “You were far too responsible a child to do any such thing!”

Eddie’s shoulders finally slumped, a small, fond smile on his face as he regarded her.

“Driving drunk,” Ms. Dempsey scoffed. “Why, the very _idea_ of you—Eddie, that’s preposterous. I certainly don’t recall anything of the sort.” Her lips pursed. “Which friends are you referring to?”

Eddie’s mouth opened, to answer, and then he shut it again with a flabbergasted frown. His gaze dropped to the hands on his knees, thinking.

“Eddie? You okay?” Flash asked, leaning on the dining table to get a good look at him.

“I don’t even remember their names,” Eddie admitted. After another moment of thought, he huffed a laugh. “God, the second I really think about any of it, it stops making sense.”

The symbiote purred, pleased, under Flash’s skin.

Flash shot him a relieved smile. “Well, that has been the trend.”

“Trend?” Ms. Dempsey questioned worriedly. “There’s more? What’s gone and given you all these false memories?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Eddie assured her. “It’s taken care of, now. Thank you, Ms. Dempsey.”

She appeared comforted at the small smile on Eddie’s face, matching it with her own. “I think you’re old enough now that you could call me Sharon, Eddie,” she chuckled.

Eddie stared at her. Then, with resolute certainty, said, “No, I can’t.”

Flash snorted. “What?”

“I’ve known her my whole life as Ms. Dempsey!” Eddie protested to him. “Switching now feels...It’s _wrong!_ ”

Ms. Dempsey laughed warmly. “Well, _you_ can call me Sharon,” she indicated Flash with a nod of her head. With another titter, she brought a hand to her cheek. “Oh, where has my mind gotten to? I didn’t even introduce myself to you, did I?”

“It’s fine. Thanks, Sharon,” Flash grinned. He grinned wider at the affronted grimace Eddie shot at him. “That settles all of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie relented. “That’s...all of it, finally.”

“That was truly all you needed? Are you sure you don’t have time to stay a bit longer?” Ms. Dempsey asked, looking reluctant to let them leave so soon.

Flash wanted to stay at the sight of her fretting over Eddie. At the sight of Eddie himself, looking similarly reluctant, hesitant in answering and ending the conversation.

 _ **Stay longer**_ , his partner prodded. _**Eddie wants it, but he isn’t going to say it. Will watch for any of the Maker’s men.**_

Flash found himself in agreement. It was his first look at someone from Eddie’s past who _didn’t_ want Eddie on the other side of the continent, or in jail. Or worse.

The Maker didn’t know they were here, yet. Might not even know they’d been looking for Ms. Dempsey in the first place. The symbiote could watch the windows for any sign of trouble.

“Are we going?” Eddie asked him, unwilling to make the decision himself.

Flash crossed his arms, debating. “Probably should…” he muttered. He smirked a little at Ms. Dempsey. “But...I think I’d like some of that tea, now.”

Ms. Dempsey positively beamed, moving to prepare him a mug. “And you, Eddie? Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink?”

Flash caught a grateful glance before Eddie chuckled, as if finally resigned to stay. “Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll have some, too.”


	32. Ms. Dempsey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets a chance to relax and chat with Ms. Dempsey about Brock Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is chill and soft because THESE BOYS AND THEIR GOO NEED A *BREAK*

With the symbiote watching the window, unseen, Flash allowed himself to genuinely make himself comfortable at Ms. Dempsey’s table. With the earlier tension relieved, he found the woman was the particularly chatty type, rambling on about her neighbors, and the weather, and doesn’t New York get so _cold_ , don’t know _how_ you manage. They’d finished their initial cups of tea, the kettle already set to heat up more water, with how long she’d gone on.

Mostly though, she focused on Eddie.

“Are you still writing, dear?” Ms. Dempsey asked.

“Technically,” Eddie responded sheepishly. “I have a job at a magazine starting next week.”

“How exciting!” she cheered, a genuinely delighted smile on her face. “You were always so passionate about literature. I’m glad to find that hasn’t changed.”

“No, it certainly hasn’t,” Eddie acknowledged. His brow furrowed as he regarded her. “Speaking of things not changing—My father doesn’t have you cleaning the house still, does he?”

“Goodness, no, I’m getting far too old to make it up all those stairs,” Ms. Dempsey tutted, rising from her chair to tend to the now whistling kettle. “I’ve been training a replacement. She’s a lovely girl. Very thorough.”

“Here, let me—” Eddie offered, beginning to stand.

“Oh, sit down,” Ms. Dempsey scolded, pinning him to his seat with a glare. “You’re my guest!”

As she shuffled back to the stove, Flash shot Eddie an amused smirk.

Eddie openly grimaced at him, expression telling the veteran he’d better keep whatever snarky comment had sprung to mind to himself.

Flash leaned back in his chair, grinning wordlessly. ‘ _Should ask her to teach me how to do that,_ ’ he told the symbiote.

His partner chittered amusedly in his head.

“Here we are,” Ms. Dempsey declared, refilling Eddie’s mug. “Do help yourself to the sugar, dear, really.”

Eddie huffed a laugh as he did. “If you insist.”

“As if you didn’t want the sugar,” the woman accused, refilling Flash’s mug as well. “I know you only took it black when you were young because Mary did it.”

Eddie’s movements went rigid, humming mechanically in answer. He added several spoonfuls of sugar to his tea.

“Have you contacted her, Eddie?” Ms. Dempsey inquired.

“She...I haven’t,” Eddie admitted awkwardly, not looking up. “No.”

‘ _He’s not gonna tell her?_ ’ Flash directed to his partner, stomach sinking.

“A shame. You two would do well to connect now that you’ve both been out of the house for so long,” Ms. Dempsey observed. “She and her partner sent me the most lovely letter with their Christmas card last year.”

The information grabbed Eddie and the symbiote’s attention instantaneously. “Last year?”

“Yes, here—Give me a moment and I’ll fetch it,” Ms. Dempsey said, once again rising from her chair. She padded over to the refrigerator, humming over several different postcards and pictures hung on the door with magnets.

Eddie was pale.

‘ _What’s with you two?_ ’ Flash asked his partner, its frazzled confusion projecting blatantly over their bond.

 _ **Heard she died more than a year ago**_ , it provided, baffled. _**Shouldn’t be possible—**_

“Ah, here it is!” Ms. Dempsey cheered, plucking a card from the fridge. She moved back to the table, offering it to Eddie. “They mentioned they were moving again in the spring. Such a handsome couple.”

Eddie took it from her, gingerly. He studied the front, seemingly frozen, making no move to open the card and read the message inside.

“She’s grown quite a bit, too,” Ms. Dempsey noted, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie grunted softly, a wistful look on his face. “...I never saw her smile like that at home.”

“Can I?” Flash asked, holding out a hand.

Eddie gave it over, wide-eyed, conflicted gaze dropping to his mug of tea.

Flash shot him a worried frown before he looked at the photo. A tall, blonde woman looked back at him, beaming, with the same blue eyes as Eddie. The same expression as Jamie Brock, from the photo in Carl Brock’s foyer. Bright and happy, filled with life. She wore an atrociously patterned red sweater, decorated with heaps of reindeer and baubles in celebration of Christmas. Beside her was her partner, in a matching green sweater, similarly smiling with their arm around Mary’s waist. They wore a headband with antlers over long, black hair.

 _ **Wedding rings**_ , the symbiote observed, directing Flash’s eyes to the silver bands on the couples’ fingers.

“They look happy,” Eddie noted quietly.

“They do seem so,” Ms. Dempsey agreed.

“Do you mind if I use your restroom?” Eddie inquired, discomfited and failing miserably at hiding it.

“Of course, dear, second door on the right,” Ms. Dempsey told him, waving the direction as she did.

Eddie stood brusquely, uttering a quick and quiet ‘thanks’ before walking out of the room.

The pair of humans and symbiote remaining were silent as he left, until Flash heard the door to the bathroom click shut.

“So...Flash, was it?” At the veteran’s nod, Ms. Dempsey peered at him over the rim of her mug. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to ask—you’ve visited the Brock house, yes?”

Flash carefully played the Christmas card on the table, expression schooled into what he hoped was total neutrality. The woman looked confident, like she was merely confirming what she already knew.

 _Shit_.

“Carl told you,” Flash guessed.

“He did,” Ms. Dempsey affirmed quite simply, as though they were discussing an incoming sprinkle of rain rather than the shitstorm Flash knew it to be. “He called last night to say Eddie had broken in, and that I should report him to a special number if I saw him near the property again.”

Flash’s stomach dropped, gripped by fear, symbiote buzzing in alarm. “Are you going to?”

“Oh, _posh_ ,” she scoffed, lowering her mug back to the table. “I didn’t even write it down.”

“You…” Flash fumbled, confused by the sight of an offended scowl on Ms. Dempsey’s face. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Her expression sobered, some, glancing in the direction of the bathroom. She hunched a little toward the veteran, keeping her voice down. “I’m not sure what sort of trouble Eddie’s gotten himself into now, but I won’t be taking part in any scheme his father’s new contacts have concocted. I’m sure you both had good reason, even if your way of going about it was...” She pulled a pensive face, unsure. “...Perhaps a _bit_ misguided.”

Flash sighed into a relieved laugh. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re our side, at least.”

“I watched that boy grow up. I know he’s always _meant_ well. Besides,” Ms. Dempsey smiled conspiratorially, “it isn’t as though I saw Eddie on _Mr. Brock’s_ property, did I? I haven’t anything to report in the first place.”

Flash willed himself to relax again, glancing in the direction of the bathroom himself. He could hear the water running. Still going. More than a quick wash. The veteran leaned toward Ms. Dempsey, questioning, “Why are you asking now?”

“I’d wondered what on earth possessed Eddie to return to that wretched home,” she provided. “I can’t imagine what was so important he felt the need to break in.”

“He didn’t want to deal with Carl,” Flash explained. “We thought he wasn’t there. We only went to track down your address.”

“Is that all?” Ms. Dempsey tittered. “Goodness, I should write it down for him, then.”

“Why ask me?” Flash questioned. “Why not Eddie?”

“Eddie would never tell me,” she smiled sadly. “He didn’t earlier; you saw. I was hoping you might be more honest.” She heaved a sigh, eyes falling to the Christmas card on the table. “So much time has passed. I’m sure it must have been a shock for him, seeing the house in such a state.”

 _“He’s changed things,”_ Flash recalled Eddie uttering, before searching the house. Differences in almost everything. If they hadn’t come across Mary’s old room, Flash wasn’t sure he would have believed children had lived there at all.

Especially not considering what became of _Eddie’s_ room.

Flash bit the inside of his lip, speaking quickly, worried Eddie might decide to return to the conversation right at a potential worst moment. “We saw Eddie’s room,” Flash started, nearly whispering. “All those boxes, with his trophies—Is all his stuff really going to the dump?”

Ms. Dempsey winced sympathetically at the question. “It was supposed to. Mr. Brock instructed me to get rid of it all, but he never looks in Eddie’s room anymore…” She shook her head. “It didn’t feel right to me—throwing out every _trace_ of Eddie out of the house.”

Flash recalled the dust on the boxes. All set up and ready to go, but then never touched again. Not for years, probably. Trophies stacked with care. Ribbons tucked carefully away in an envelope. Safe, and spared.

“I know Eddie started throwing the trophies out himself, as he got older, but…” Ms. Dempsey shrugged a little, smiling self-consciously. “I don’t know. I suppose I wanted to keep a piece of his childhood intact, after everything.”

The symbiote keened in Flash’s mind. _**Need to tell Eddie**_ , it stressed. _**Needs to know how much she missed him.**_

Flash was about to agree, to let Ms. Dempsey know exactly that, when the bathroom door opened.

Eddie shuffled back to the table, eyes a little red, and the edges of his hair damp like he’d splashed his face with water. He looked up at a clock on the wall with concern. “It’s getting late,” he observed, turning apologetically to Ms. Dempsey. “We’ll need to head out or we’ll miss the bus back to New York.”

“Oh, we can take my car,” Ms. Dempsey suggested. “No sense in having you walk all the way there.”

“Thanks, Sharon,” Flash told her genuinely.

“You really don’t have to,” Eddie stressed. “You’ve helped more than—”

“And not see you off? Again?” Ms. Dempsey interrupted, looking hurt. “Eddie.”

Flash watched the resolve crumble in Eddie’s eyes.

“Better chance not getting spotted if she drives us,” Flash pointed out.

Eddie’s shoulders slumped, defeated.

“There’s a dear,” she said, patting Eddie’s cheek, full of fondness. “Come along, boys. Let’s get you on your way back home.”

* * *

“Alright, I have the tickets,” Eddie announced as he walked over to Flash and Ms. Dempsey. He smiled gently at the woman, taking her hand. “It was wonderful to see you again.”

“Take care of yourself,” Ms. Dempsey urged. Then, she pulled an old business card from her purse. “Here, and now you’ve no need to track down my address,” she said, pressing it into Eddie’s hand with a smile of her own. “I would be happy to get a Christmas card from you, too, eventually.”

Eddie bit the inside of his lip. Bit back the emotion he was having trouble hiding now, hands squeezing tighter around Ms. Dempsey’s. “I’ll remember that.” He let go, reluctantly, uttering a final, “Take care,” before moving to board the bus.

“It was nice to meet you,” Ms. Dempsey told Flash, taking his hands in turn. “It’s a relief to know Eddie has a friend looking after him.”

Flash smiled back at her, working through the instantaneous anxiety about his changed relationship with the other man. He still didn’t know how to classify what they were now, but at the very least, he knew he was still determined to help Eddie get better. “I’ll do my best,” he promised, giving Ms. Demsey’s hands a light shake before he turned to join Eddie.

The team boarded the bus, settling in their seats, both noticing that Ms. Dempsey was still watching from outside. As the doors shut, and the engine rumbled, they saw her wave, smiling sadly.

Eddie waved back, continuing for a few moments after the bus pulled away. Soon it turned, bringing them out of sight, and starting them off on their journey home.

Eddie kept looking out the window, quiet.

“You okay?” Flash prompted softly.

“Yeah,” Eddie grunted, shifting, rubbing at one of his eyes. He cleared his throat, shining eyes dropping their gaze to his feet.

A black tendril stretched from Flash’s arm to Eddie’s, spiralling down until it reached his fingers. The symbiote spread over Eddie’s hand, encasing it, and then blended into Eddie’s skin to vanish from sight.

Flash shuffled in his seat. A part of him wanted to pull Eddie close. Wrap an arm around his shoulders. Something intimate, something that spoke of _more_ than friends, and the thought sent his nerves into an anxious buzzing again. He didn’t want to just sit here and say _nothing_ , though. A friend wouldn’t.

He settled for leaning a little into Eddie’s shoulder, arm-to-arm. Only pressure, really, and warmth, but he hoped it was comforting. “She cares about you,” he told Eddie. “...She’s not the only one, either.”

Eddie’s hand, covered in invisible symbiote, slowly closed around his other. He leaned a little into Flash, in turn, relaxing into his seat. “Yeah,” he said, smiling quietly to himself. “I guess so.”


	33. Return Trip (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew is TIRED, but it's a long bus trip back and they have a lot to think about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking this trio is done being soft and stupid, but nope, they’re proving me wrong. Also if anyone’s as frustrated as Symby with Flash’s idiocy (like I AM LOL), don’t worry--he’s not gonna be able to keep shoving his feelings down for long

Flash very nearly fell asleep during the bus ride, with Eddie contemplating things quietly next to him. Flash wondered blearily if the symbiote was soothing his frayed nerves after all the drama. Coaxing him into rest, despite the part of Flash’s brain that insisted on being hyper aware of his proximity to Eddie.

The symbiote didn’t respond, quiet as its other. Thoughtful.

Flash’s head tilted with the swaying of the bus. Then it fell, right onto Eddie’s shoulder. The contact may as well have been the clash of opposing magnetic poles with how quickly Flash jerked his head back up. “Sorry,” he choked.

“It’s fine,” Eddie muttered absently, gaze on the business card in his hand.

Well, now he was awake. Willing his rapidly beating heart to calm down, Flash looked from Eddie’s pensive face to the card. Eddie was practically cradling it, like it was a precious relic he’d unearthed. Something lost, finally found.

Flash frowned. “...You could save the info to your phone,” he suggested gently.

Eddie hummed softly, his thumb rubbing gently along the edge of the cardstock.

“Lot on your mind?” Flash asked. He knew now, from experience, a quiet Eddie was an overthinking Eddie, and an overthinking Eddie was _stressed_. The man was certifiably brooding.

“...now you’ve no need to track down my address,” Eddie mumbled.

Flash’s head canted along with the symbiote’s curious mental trill. “What?”

“She said I didn’t need to track it down,” Eddie elaborated, brows furrowing. “I never told her we were looking for it to begin with.”

“Oh, right,” Flash recalled. “Yeah, she uh...We were talking while you were in the bathroom,” he explained, shrinking a little under Eddie’s questioning glare. “She knew we went to your dad’s place. She asked me why, so…”

The muscles in Eddie’s jaw went taught. “She’d only know if my father told her.”

Flash felt the symbiote squirm around his already anxious stomach. “...Yeah. He called her.”

Eddie let out an annoyed grunt, shifting to slouch in his seat. “So, he knows I was the reason his beloved bay window in the office is in pieces. Or, he thought to blame me for his life’s tribulations and happened to be correct, this time.”

The veteran grimaced, realizing Eddie must not have gotten wind of just who brought the Maker and his goons to the house. The journalist had gotten drugged and thrown into a van before Carl had jumped out of his car, come to think of it. “I mean, he did—” Flash began.

 _ **Wait,**_ the symbiote interrupted quickly. _**Flash, don’t. Eddie didn’t see him.**_

‘ _You don’t want me to tell him?_ ’ the veteran shot back. ‘ _But Carl sold us out to—_ ’

_**What good will it do?** _

Flash hesitated, watching Eddie glower and fidget with the business card. Eddie knew, of course, that Carl Brock was a cold, distant, heartless bastard. Knew he couldn’t rely on Carl for a damn thing, choosing to break into the house rather than even chance asking the man for Ms. Dempsey’s address. All the hurt from living in that house had been inescapable. His father’s detachment was present everywhere inside it, even if Carl himself was not.

 _ **Knowing Carl called the Maker will hurt him worse**_ , the symbiote pressed.

The veteran bit his tongue, hating the point his partner was making. It didn’t matter now, who called the Maker. It didn’t matter that Carl called Ms. Dempsey to report the break-in, or even how Carl knew Eddie had been at the house. What mattered was that they’d managed to achieve what they’d set out to do, and they were _safe_.

At least, relatively.

Eddie’s glower shifted to Flash. “...Well?”

Flash grimaced back. “Well what?”

“What are you two discussing?” Eddie elaborated, having improved greatly on catching them in the act, his gaze flat and unimpressed with Flash’s flinch.

“I was...We were—” Flash stopped himself with a sharp sigh. Eddie didn’t need the details. Sentiment would have to do. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. “Sorry. Got caught up in a loop of how we also hate your fucking dad.”

Eddie’s glare softened into surprise. “Oh?”

“He’s a piece of shit,” Flash continued with a barely suppressed snarl, recalling Carl’s cowardly plea for mercy. “He’s not worth a damn.”

Eddie appeared to relax at the words, lips quirking up. “I think you’ll find his net worth is rather high.”

“All the money in the world’s no replacement for his heart. I’m surprised he’s even alive, since he clearly doesn’t _have_ one,” Flash scoffed, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Y’know how I said we weren’t there to rob him? I take it back. We should’ve fucking robbed him.”

Eddie laughed.

The sound calmed the fretting of the symbiote, and Flash found himself breathing a little easier.

“I don’t think there’s anything in that house I’d want,” Eddie huffed.

“You wouldn’t want to steal your stuff?” Flash questioned.

“ _What_ stuff?” Eddie grumbled. “My room was full of old junk.”

“Your trophies were still there,” Flash noted. “Sharon kept a bunch of your awards in one of the boxes for safekeeping. She made sure it didn’t get thrown away.”

Eddie went tense, eyes drawn back to the business card. Conflicted. “I don’t want them,” he muttered. “...but I’m glad she did.” After a moment, he scoffed at Flash again, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re really calling her _Sharon_.”

“She said I could!” Flash argued with a laugh of his own.

“You’re not _that_ close to her. It’s not polite,” Eddie chastised, though Flash could tell the irritation was merely superficial. A game for the two of them, bickering over nothing of importance. Low stakes and calming. Exactly what they needed after the past few days.

“Sharon said it was fine, so I’m calling her Sharon. Forever. She’s always going to be Sharon to me, and I refuse to call her anything _but_ Sharon,” Flash pestered. He poked Eddie in the arm when the journalist grunted in feigned disgust. “And if we’re going for closeness, I should just be calling you Eddie all the time instead of Brock, yeah? We’re friends now.”

“You already called me Eddie fairly often,” the journalist noted with a smirk. “Presumptuous on your part, really.”

“No, _you_ said we were friends. To Sharon. In public. Now we’re _officially_ friends,” Flash insisted, grinning.

“Friends who slept together,” Eddie shot back with a smirk. “Sure.”

In an instant, Flash was screaming internally. At least, he felt like he must be. He didn’t know if the symbiote could hear it.

 _ **Stop panicking and just talk!**_ his partner shouted at him, confirming his mental distress.

“Yeah, uh—That. Yes,” Flash started, and then faltered, unsure of how to even begin this conversation. He didn’t want to _have_ this conversation. It shouldn’t even be necessary.

Eddie shot him a bemused look. “You alright, Flash?”

“Fine!” Flash answered quickly. Too quickly, judging by Eddie’s sudden look of mild concern. “Fine. Yep. Totally fine.”

“You seem...the utter opposite of fine,” Eddie observed.

“I’m, uh—I’m tired,” Flash supplied. “Super tired. That’s all.”

Internally, he heard the symbiote snarling in frustration.

“We have a while yet before we get to any motels,” Eddie noted. He jerked his thumb at the window beside him. “We could switch seats, if you want to lean against something and sleep.”

Flash didn’t particularly want to lean against the window. Not when Eddie’s shoulder looked so comfy and inviting, cushioned by soft hoodie material. “I’m...good,” Flash said. “Banging my head against the window isn’t great for a nap.”

“I’m sure my other could provide a pillow for you.”

 _ **Ask Eddie!**_ the symbiote snapped. _**You are friends! Stop making things stupid!**_

‘ _What if he gets weird about it, though?!_ ’ Flash panicked. ‘ _I don’t want him to think I’m—_ ’

_**He’ll be fine with it!** _

“Not so sure about that,” Flash chuckled awkwardly, answering both of his companions. Before Eddie could inquire why the symbiote was so unwilling, the veteran cleared his throat, trying to formulate what he knew should be a very basic question. “Could I just—” he started, eyes darting away from Eddie’s face.

Fuck’s sake, this shouldn’t be so difficult. His partner was right—he was just making things _weird_. He just had to be normal, again. Get back to treating Eddie the way he used to, before they had sex. Casually.

“...Can I just lean on you, instead?” Flash managed. “As—y’know. As a friend.”

Eddie stared at him, which nearly sent Flash into a tizzy of spouting off excuses, in an attempt to take the question back. But then an amused smile graced Eddie’s lips. “Sure.”

“Really?” Flash asked, eyes widening.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, and then shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Flash shifted, still a little uneasy, but once he’d oriented himself more comfortably in his seat it was easy to simply lean over and rest his head. Eddie’s shoulder was cushioned somewhat by Flash’s old hoodie. Warm and soft, but not overly so.

Eddie maneuvered his shoulder a little more under Flash, finding his own comfortable position, yawning against his fist before settling back down again.

Perfectly content to be a pillow.

 _ **Told you**_ , the symbiote grumbled.

“...Thanks,” Flash muttered quietly, shutting his eyes.

Eddie hummed softly in acknowledgement.

* * *

Eventually, Eddie found his own eyes starting to droop, even as his mind raced. The Maker found them all too easily. Still didn’t know what he wanted, but destroying Eddie’s trust in his own self had merely been a pet project. Not the goal. His other was still in danger, unless they managed to shake the supervillain. Ms. Dempsey allowing them to ride with her should have helped with that effort, some.

A small smile formed on Eddie’s lips as he thought of his housekeeper again. Ms. Dempsey was as dear as he’d remembered her. More so, even, knowing now that she’d seen fit to keep his old trophies for him. Eddie made a mental note to remember to send her a card, come the holidays. She deserved infinitely more, but it was a start. He’d be copying Mary, but—

 _God_ , Mary was _alive._

His precious older sister. The one family member he’d always thought he maybe, _potentially_ had a chance with reconciling with, until he heard she’d died. But no, she was alive and _thriving_ from the look of it, happily married. Moving in the spring.

He almost wished he’d asked where Mary was moving to. Almost, because even though he may want to reconcile, even if Ms. Dempsey had assured him it was a good idea—

Where the hell did he _begin_ , with Mary?

So much had happened in his life. He was sure the same was true for her, though he hoped her life had been a bit less...dramatic.

He wondered idly, as the sun began to dip under the horizon line, if their father had been invited to her wedding. If Mary had seen fit to even bother. If she’d been wiser than Eddie had been, when it came time to send out invitations.

After all, her estranged little brother hadn’t gotten one. He tried not to let that thought sting, unsuccessfully.

On his shoulder, Flash shifted, drawing Eddie’s attention off his musing. He turned to look at the veteran, wondering if he was waking.

Flash was fast asleep, head heavy on Eddie’s shoulder. Cheek squished up as his jaw had gone slack.

Eddie smirked a little at the sight. After all that floundering, Flash’s anxiety seemed to have finally abated. At least, for the moment. He would probably start acting weird again once he woke up. Weird and _skittish_ , almost. Nervous in a way Eddie hadn’t seen him act before, even back when Eddie was trying to threaten Flash’s own life.

Of course, that was then. Now, they’d slept together.

Eddie figured the sex had something to do with Flash’s erratic behavior. The timeline would mostly fit. If not, whatever personal issue Flash had cited before their encounter with the Maker must have been exacerbated. Whatever it was, Flash clearly wasn't comfortable talking about it. 

As Eddie’s eyes roamed over Flash’s sleeping face, he figured he should probably be grateful Flash hadn’t ditched him yet. Even as uneasy as the veteran was, he hadn’t left. He still cared about Eddie. He’d confirmed as much.

The thought baffled him, even as his chest warmed with it.

A tiny tendril of black made itself known on the edge of Eddie’s vision, peeking out from behind Flash’s ear.

“Hello, love,” Eddie said softly, smiling when the tendril poked his nose.

The symbiote extended past his jaw, and then urged his head toward Flash’s. Pushed down, its touch gentle but insistent, to make Eddie rest his cheek against the veteran’s strawberry blond locks.

“Could tell I’m tired too, huh,” he rumbled with a smile, as the tendril withdrew. He could feel his other slide under his cheek, stretching along his neck to provide a little warmth. Some comfort. Affection. Eddie let his eyes shut, breathing deep.

Flash’s scent, mild on his hoodie, was infinitely stronger with Eddie’s nose all but buried in the veteran’s hair.

It wasn’t some incredible, wonderous smell, underneath the scent of cheap, fruity motel shampoo. It was just a typical one, and that which he’d grown accustomed to. Just Flash. Just warm, living, breathing, Flash Thompson, safe and sound, symbiote tucked beneath his lightly freckled skin.

Eddie let his eyes drift closed, inhaling, calming as the now-familiar scent relaxed him. He felt the symbiote stretch itself between the two of them, from Flash’s cheek to Eddie’s shoulder, where it wouldn’t be seen, connecting the pair of them. Its tendril rubbed between his shoulders, gently. Lovingly.

Eddie fell asleep, a soft smile on his lips.


End file.
